


I Need You

by the_communist_unicorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Happy Ending, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Charlie Bradbury, Omega Kevin Tran, Protective Dean Winchester, Romance, Season 9, Supportive Sam Winchester, Virgin Castiel (Supernatural), With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_communist_unicorn/pseuds/the_communist_unicorn
Summary: Jimmy Novak was an omega, but Castiel is an angel. He has no gender, and his grace prevents his vessel from going into heat. Until he suddenly finds himself very human and in desperate need of an alpha to help him through his first mating cycle. Who ya gonna call?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 91
Kudos: 538





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

> This roughly follows the plot of season 9, but there are a few canon deviations apart from the ABO stuff. The major one is that there is no Gadreel. Sam didn't finish the Trials, therefore he didn't die, end of story. The Trials took a toll on him, but he's recovering the normal human way, not the possessed-by-an-angel way. I also skipped the Wizard of Oz stuff for reasons which should become obvious when you get to that part. 
> 
> If you have any questions or if you need spoilers not included in the tags before you feel comfortable reading, you can find me on Facebook (Koby Kuznetz) or Tumblr (the-communist-unicorn).
> 
> And I'm always in the market for an artist to draw pretty pictures to accompany my stories. Let me know if you're interested. =)

"Dude, I get that you're worried about him, but can you please get your scent under control? It reeks in here."  
  
Dean blinked and sniffed the air. Sam had a point. Under the bunker's normal odors of dust and old books was a strong note of distressed alpha. No wonder nervous little omega Kevin had been spending so much time in his room lately. "Sorry," Dean muttered and made an effort both to control his scent and to focus on the lore books spread out on the table in front of him. He didn't really succeed at either. 

Three weeks. Three weeks since the angels fell, since Cas called from a gas station in Colorado. By the time Dean got there, the angel (or ex-angel, or whatever the hell he was now) had vanished without a trace. Three weeks of no leads, no calls, not even a damn postcard. And okay, so this wasn't the first time Cas had gone radio silent, but that was then. Then when Cas had his powers. Then when he could heal himself with a thought, take a bullet or a knife to the heart or have a fucking atom bomb dropped on his head and keep on ticking. Now … Now Dean's dreams (when he slept at all) were filled with images of Cas dead in a ditch. It wouldn't even take an angel or a demon or a monster. Any garden variety psycho with a thing for blue eyed boys. For all that he was a badass warrior of heaven, Cas was a little … okay, _very_ naive sometimes. 

"Dean!" Sam snapped as the unpleasant smell grew stronger. 

Dean knew Sam wasn't really mad. He was just tired and stressed, and Dean's scent was bringing out his own protective alpha instincts, but he didn't know how to make his brother feel better, and it was driving him crazy. Dean knew that, but he was already on edge, and Sam's sharp tone verged dangerously close to alpha voice. Alpha voice might not have the same controlling effect on other alphas as it did on omegas, but it was still annoying and rude, and Dean was growling back before he could stop himself, "It's not that easy to turn it off, Sam! It's not like flipping a switch!"  
  
Sam took a deep, calming breath through his mouth and said, "You're right. I'm sorry." He even tipped his head back a little, baring his throat to Dean. 

A little twist of guilt curled in Dean's gut. Sam didn't need this right now. He was still so wiped out from the Trials, and he had to be just as worried about Cas as Dean was. He shouldn't have to walk on eggshells and soothe Dean's ego with ridiculous, outdated posturing. _Grow up, Winchester. You did not pop your first knot yesterday, so act like a fucking evolved human being and get yourself under control._ Dean opened his mouth to apologize too, but at that moment his phone rang. 

He didn't recognize the number so he answered with a wary, "Hello?" 

The voice on the other end of the call was female and unfamiliar. "Is this Dean?" she asked. 

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Rose Andrews. I'm a nurse at Saint Magda's Private Clinic in Denver. We have a patient here. James Novak. He gave me this number and asked me to get in touch with someone named Dean. Is that you?" 

Cas. Cas was alive.  
  
Sam raised his eyebrows when relief washed through Dean's scent, sweet and clear, but the sour note of worry didn't entirely dissipate. 

"Yes, that's me. Is he okay?" Stupid question. He was in a hospital. Of course he wasn't okay. "I mean, what's wrong with him? Why is he there?" 

"That … really isn't something we should discuss over the phone. How soon can you get here?" 

Dean did some quick math, factored in traffic and gas stops, and said, "Ten hours, give or take."  
  
"Good. Call me back at this number and I'll get you in. Hurry, please," she added which made Dean's stomach clench and the distress in his scent spike sharply again. 

"What's going on?" Sam demanded as soon as Dean hung up. "Is it Cas?" 

"Yeah." Dean told him what Nurse Andrews had said. 

"I should go with you," was Sam's immediate response as Dean had known it would be. "Just in case it's a trap."  
  
"No. You should stay here and rest up," Dean said firmly. "Besides, do you really think it's a good idea to leave Kevin alone with Crowley?" 

Sam had to concede the point, and Dean went to pack. 

~o0o~

Dean knew immediately what was wrong with Cas as soon as he pulled into the parking lot of Saint Magda's. The building was windowless, and all the entrances had opaque privacy doors with scent proof seals. This wasn't a hospital. It was a heat clinic. 

Nurse Andrews was waiting for him outside the main entrance. She was a tall, willowy beta. Heat clinics were staffed only by betas except for a handful of alpha and omega "companions" who could service the patients if requested.  
  
"You understand this is completely against the rules," Nurse Andrews said, fixing Dean with a calculating stare. "We're only supposed to allow mates and beta relatives inside, but …" She twisted her hands, and Dean knew that if she hadn't been a beta she would have smelled desperate. "I don't know what else to do. He refuses to see a companion. He won't even use the toys we provided. We've given him as many hormone suppressants as we safely can. They're not working. I've never seen such an intense heat. The doctor says if he doesn't get some relief soon, he'll probably die, or at least sustain permanent organ damage." 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks warming at her blunt assessment. He guessed when you worked in a place like this, you learned to talk about sex toys and prostitutes without blushing. "I, um …" He cleared his throat. "Him and me, we're not … We're just friends." 

"Oh." Her face fell. "Well, obviously I'm not asking you to do anything you're not comfortable with, but … Could you just talk to him? Convince him to let us help him? We can't do anything without his permission." 

"Are you sure it's safe for me to …" 

"I'll give you a nasal spray that will dull your scent receptors, and you'll wear a scent blocking mask for extra protection. As long as you don't stay too long or take off the mask, you'll be fine." 

Dean nodded and tried not to analyze too closely why his stomach was still flip flopping with nerves. Yes, maybe he had once hoped that this weirdly intense friendship he and Cas had going could develop into something more, but with everything that had happened in the past few years — Cas dying and coming back, going crazy and getting brainwashed by Naomi — it was a miracle they had even managed to keep their friendship more or less intact. Asking for more felt greedy. Worse, it felt like tempting fate. So he would go in there, and he would talk some sense into Cas like a good friend, and then he would leave the rest to the professionals. 

~o0o~

The nasal spray felt cold and tingly, and it made the back of his throat itch. The mask's straps pinched his ears, and the way his breath collected inside it quickly made the lower half of his face feel gross and damp. All in all, he was extremely uncomfortable both physically and emotionally even before Nurse Andrews turned to him outside Cas's door and said gently, "If you change your mind and decide to stay, press the red button just inside the door. No one will disturb you."  
  
Dean just nodded and prayed that the mask was hiding most of his blush. 

The room had two doors with a small anteroom between them, double scent proofing. The inner door would only open if the outer door was firmly closed and vice versa, and there was an exhaust fan in the ceiling of the anteroom constantly scrubbing the air clean. Nurse Andrews gave Dean an encouraging smile before she closed the outer door between them, leaving Dean alone. He took a deep breath of sterile, scentless air and opened the second door. 

Inside it was more like a mid-range hotel room than a hospital. There was a king size bed, a chaise lounge also big enough for two, and a TV with a few DVDs stacked next to it. A quick glance at the titles confirmed that they were all porn. A table beside the bed held a jug of water, a cup, and a number of other objects that Dean tried not to look at too closely, though he did notice that they were all still in their sterile plastic packaging. 

Cas was laying in the middle of the bed, curled into a fetal position, his back to the door. Beads of sweat stood out on his neck, sweat stained the armpits of his gray t-shirt, and … something else was making a large wet blotch on the seat of his sweatpants. His bare feet were twitching, his toes curling up with pain. But the worst part was the low, heartbreaking sobs coming from the fallen angel. Dean had never seen Cas cry though God knew he'd had plenty of good reasons over the years. 

Cas didn't react to the sounds of the door opening and closing, so Dean cautiously approached the bed and reached out to touch his shaking shoulder. "Cas?" 

Cas twisted around and sat up, his tears ceasing all at once in his shock. "Dean," he said, his voice even rougher than usual. "You came." 

"Course I did," Dean said, perching himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed. Despite his best efforts, his eyes were drawn to Cas's lap.

Cas turned bright red and yanked the blanket over the cover the prominent tent in his sweatpants and the accompanying wet spot. "Sorry," he mumbled. 

"It's okay," Dean said, quickly returning his attention to Cas's face. "Not your fault." 

They sat in awkward silence for a minute. Dean noticed Cas wincing in pain every few seconds. 

"So," Dean finally said when it became clear that Cas wasn't going to initiate a conversation even if they sat here until hell froze over, "you want to tell me why you'd rather suffer than let these nice people help you?"  
  
Cas flushed even darker and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his red face in his folded arms. "Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?" he said, his voice slightly muffled. "I have endured many indignities since I lost my grace. Sleeping and eating and … urination." He said the last one with utter disgust which, okay, fair enough. "But _this_ is too much. I will not let some stranger fuck me just because this stupid body demands it. I would rather die." 

"You will," Dean said evenly. "Die." 

"Well, maybe I deserve to." It was said very quietly, but Dean heard every word as clearly as if Cas had shouted it in his face. 

"No," he said, his voice cracking a little. "No, Cas. You don't really believe that. You made one mistake." 

Cas laughed humorlessly, still refusing to look at Dean. "We both know I've made more than that. This is only my latest screw up. I'm hated, hunted by my own kind, and even if I manage to evade them, even if I survive, this is what I have to look forward to. Year after year of hunger and thirst and cold and _this_. I don't want it. I don't want it, Dean." 

He was crying again, shaking and sobbing out the words. So Dean did the only thing he could. He scooted closer to Cas on the bed and wrapped the fallen angel in his arms. Cas uncurled himself a little, relaxing into the embrace, his sobs muffled in Dean's jacket. Dean rocked him gently and steadfastly ignored the hard thing poking his hip through the blankets. 

It took a good ten minutes for Cas to calm down, and Dean kept a wary eye on the clock. The nurse had warned him that the nasal spray was only effective for half an hour, forty minutes at the outside. Then Cas's pheromones would start to affect Dean. The mask might or might not neutralize the worst of it. Those things were only guaranteed about seventy percent effective, and Cas's heat was abnormally intense, probably a side effect of his angel mojo blocking the natural cycle for so long (although of course the doctors didn't know about that, so they were chalking it up to a hormone imbalance which was a fancy way of saying "we got nothing").

"Cas," Dean said when it seemed like Cas was paying attention again, "I know it's hard to see it right now, but being human has its up sides, and sex? Sex is definitely one of the perks. Plus, the people here are professionals. They'll know how to make it good for you. They won't hurt you." 

Cas abruptly pulled away from Dean, balling himself up again, his expression closed off. "That's not what I'm afraid of." 

"Then what? Is it the whole prostitution aspect of it? You think God would disapprove?" 

"No," Cas said flatly. "I don't much care what God thinks anymore. I just don't want …" He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't want professionalism, Dean. I don't want the first person who touches me that way to be just doing their job. I want someone who knows me, who cares about me, who …" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Who loves me." A few more tears trickled silently down his cheeks. "And now the opportunity to find that has been stolen from me, and my only choices are to give my first time to a stranger or to die. It's unfair, but it is still my choice. My free will." He smiled sadly through his tears and reached out to caress Dean's cheek, but the mask was in the way, so he ended up touching Dean's temple like some strange attempt at a Vulcan mind meld. "I'm glad I got to see you again," he said. "One last time." 

Dean stared into those sad blue eyes and remembered the first time he had seen them, remembered a voice like a roll of thunder but somehow gentle at the same time saying, _What's the matter, Dean? You don't think you deserve to be saved?_ He remembered a hopeless night in a motel parking lot when he had prayed for the first time in his life, and it wasn't God who answered. It was Cas. It was always Cas. And yes, he had betrayed Dean too, hurt him, and let him down, but he always came back, always tried to fix it. He took risks and made sacrifices for Dean, and he made mistakes and screwed up again and again, and through it all Dean loved him. Even when he was fucking furious at him, neck deep in Leviathans and watching Sam go off the rails and all of it Cas's fault, Dean had still loved him and wanted him to come back so there would at least be the possibility of them getting past all that shit and being … being _them_ again. Whatever the hell they were. 

He reached up and pulled off the mask. 

Cas frowned. "Dean, what are you —" 

Dean silenced him with a kiss. It was brief. He didn't dare risk more than a soft press of closed lips because Cas was already highly aroused, and the nasal spray was starting to wear off, and they both needed to remain somewhat clear headed for the time it would take to verify that this was mutual. "I know you," Dean murmured, pressing his forehead against Cas's, the scent of fertile omega starting to tickle his nose and perk up his dick. "I care about you. I …" The unfamiliar words got stuck in his throat, so he compromised with the next best thing. "I need you, Cas. I need you to live. I cannot lose another member of my family. I can't." 

"Dean." It wasn't the beginning of a protest or anything else. It was a statement unto itself, a prayer and the answer to a prayer. 

They kissed again though it was hard to say who initiated it. Cas's fingers scraped at Dean's scalp, and he moaned low in his throat, but it ended on a whimper. He was already burning with desire and had been for days. At this point foreplay was irrelevant and would only prolong his pain. 

"Hold that thought," Dean said, and he climbed off the bed and almost ran across the room to press the red button. When he turned back around, Cas had already shed his sweat soaked shirt and was struggling out of his pants, no trace of shyness. While Dean hurried to catch up, the omega flipped ungracefully onto his stomach, exposing his wet, dilated entrance to Dean. Dean swallowed, his cock throbbing in his jeans. 

The room smelled strongly of musk now, Dean's arousal bleeding into his scent which made Cas's body put off even more _fuck me_ pheromones as it finally sensed a willing alpha nearby. Cas's hips rolled and jerked mindlessly against the mattress, but that wasn't going to do anything for the crippling cramps that Dean knew must be like knives tearing at his insides. Dean had never helped an omega through heat before, but he knew the basics. Only knotting could take away the pain entirely although other kinds of stimulation could take the edge off for a few minutes at a time. 

Dean finished undressing and was relieved to discover that he was already fully hard, whether from the scent, or the sight of Cas spread out and ready for him, or most likely the combination of the two. He found a package of condoms among the toys on the bedside table and rolled one on. Cas's body chemistry was probably too unstable right now for him to get pregnant, but no sense in taking chances. 

When Dean rested his hands on Cas's hips and bent to scent his neck, Cas gave a shaky sigh and whimpered, "Dean. Please." 

"It's all right, omega," Dean murmured. "I got you." He entered Cas in one smooth thrust, making sure to tag his prostate on the way in and give him a jolt of pleasure to distract from the pain. 

Cas groaned, his back arching up against Dean's stomach, and Dean took the opportunity to slip a hand underneath him and stroke his cock. It might take a while to get him knotted, but Dean would be damned if Cas wasn't gonna enjoy this as much as possible in the meantime. He might not be a professional, but Dean had had a lot of sex in his life, and he would use every trick he'd ever learned to make Cas's first time what it should be. 

Actually, this might not take as long as he'd thought. He'd never been with an omega in heat before, and he'd underestimated how quickly the scent alone could push him over the edge. Not to mention the tight, slick channel seizing at him on every thrust, trying to hold him inside, and the incoherent moans spilling from Cas's mouth, punctuated with cries of "Alpha" and "Dean". It felt like less than five minutes had passed when his knot started to swell, stretching Cas a little wider every time Dean pulled out. This drove Cas absolutely fucking nuts. He bucked and heaved up against Dean, gasping, "Please. Yes. Oh, fuck yes. Please, Dean. Alpha, please." 

Dean slid in one last time and let himself go, his vision whiting out as his orgasm overtook him. He was only vaguely aware of Cas spilling over his hand, but he was acutely aware of the way Cas's body locked tight around his knot because it wrenched an immediate second climax from him, so intense that he actually screamed, and it took all his self control not to bite down on Cas's neck. He had a feeling Cas wouldn't appreciate being randomly mated while he was too heat drunk to have an informed say in the matter. 

When he had regained a little muscle control, Dean carefully rolled them both onto their sides, keeping Cas pressed tight against his chest so the movement wouldn't cause too much discomfort where they were still joined. He nuzzled Cas's neck and scented only happy, satisfied omega, no undertone of pain or distress. His inner alpha purred smugly. 

"Good," Cas sighed, already half asleep. "Good alpha. Feel so much better." 

"Glad to hear it," Dean said, laying a light kiss behind his ear. "Sleep now, omega." He couldn't resist adding with a smirk, "I'll watch over you." 

Cas either didn't hear or didn't bother to answer, and seconds later he was snoring softly. 

Dean was pretty exhausted too, but he forced himself to stay awake until his knot went down, and then he very carefully pulled out of Cas. The omega whimpered a little but didn't wake up. Dean tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash, then padded to the adjoining bathroom where he found a pack of wet wipes already laid out on the counter. There was also gauze, disinfectant, muscle rub, massage oil, scented bubble bath, and a bathtub and shower both big enough for two. Dean started to wonder how expensive this place was and how they were going to get away with not paying the bill, but they had several more days before they had to worry about that. Speaking of which …

After he'd cleaned up himself and Cas, he dug his phone out of his jeans and sent Sam a text. _Cas gonna b ok but can't travel 4 a few days_. _Keep u updated._ He put the phone on silent in case Sam called to demand more details (that was not a conversation he was ready to have with anyone, let alone his brother) and crawled back into bed beside Cas. Cas rolled over and nuzzled Dean's neck, scenting him instinctively without waking. Dean smiled and wrapped his arms around the fallen angel. He fell asleep quickly and had no bad dreams. 


	2. Not Just Any Alpha

Castiel woke feeling … not good, but better. The stabbing pains in his gut that had finally mercifully disappeared when Dean knotted him were starting to return, but they were still just twinges, and the restless burning feeling under his skin had receded to a sort of semi-pleasant tingling warmth. Best of all, he was tangled up with another warm body that smelled like contentedly sleeping alpha. And not just any alpha. Dean. 

Castiel breathed deep. He had always found Dean's scent appealing, reminiscent of woodsmoke and coffee and everything warm and comforting and human, but in his current state it was positively intoxicating. He felt an honest to goodness purr rumble through his chest, and a trickle of slick ran down his leg. 

Dean's nose twitched, and his eyes opened just a crack. "Cas?" he murmured sleepily. 

"Sorry," Castiel said. "Didn't mean to wake you." But he couldn't seem to stop nuzzling Dean and rubbing up against him. He was half hard, but he couldn't remember if he'd woken up that way or got there in the scant few seconds since. 

"It's okay," Dean reassured him. "That's what I'm here for. Just let me up for a second, 'kay? I gotta take a piss." 

Castiel reluctantly let him get out of the bed. Once the bathroom door was closed between them, the thinning of the alpha scent combined with the lingering satiation of his first knotting allowed Castiel to think more or less clearly for the first time in days. 

When Dean had offered himself, it hadn't even occurred to Castiel to refuse. He was pretty sure he wouldn't have refused even if he wasn't burning with need, even if it wasn't his life in the balance. Part of him (and not exclusively the part between his legs that was currently making such a nuisance of itself) had wanted Dean Winchester for a very long time. Since he first saw the man's soul shining in the darkness of Hell. Flickering, yes, guttering like a candle in the wind, but somehow surviving against all odds. A good man.  
  
But what would happen when Castiel's heat had run its course? When he no longer needed Dean but still wanted him selfishly. Could they go back to being friends? Would Dean find it too awkward to be around Castiel after seeing him in such an undignified state? Would Castiel find it too difficult to be around Dean, watch him flirt with every reasonably attractive person who crossed his path? Male, female, alpha, beta, omega — Dean really wasn't picky. The thought of those hands touching anyone who wasn't him made Castiel feel a little sick, but maybe that was just the heat, his inner omega whining, _my alpha, mineminemine_. Being human was so confusing.  
  
Dean came out of the bathroom and immediately caught the sour note of unhappiness in Castiel's scent. "Hey. What's wrong?" he said, his own scent flooding with _protect_ and _comfort_ in response. "Is it hurting again?"

Castiel nodded miserably because it was though still not nearly as bad as the last few days. 

"Come here. It's okay. I'll take care of you, omega. Just relax. It's gonna be okay." Dean laid down on his side and gathered Castiel close so they were pressed chest to back, one big, calloused hand massaging Castiel's belly. 

Castiel relaxed into his alpha's arms and let thought slip away for a while, surrendering himself to pure feeling. Dean was right. Sex was definitely one of the better aspects of being human. 

~o0o~

Food was left in the anteroom five times a day because not only did an omega's metabolism speed up considerably during heat, but an alpha who was knotting ten or twelve times a day needed to keep his blood sugar up too. It was mostly finger food which Castiel had at first thought was to minimize the number of dishes that the clinic's no doubt busy kitchen staff had to wash. He found out the real reason when he reflexively reached out to pop a bite size beef dumpling into Dean's mouth before he'd thought about what he was doing. 

Dean didn't seem at all surprised. "Omega instincts," he explained while he chewed the mouthful. "Gotta make sure the alpha is strong to protect your pups." He swallowed, took Castiel's hand, and gently licked his fingers clean which made Castiel's inner omega squirm with delight.  
  
Castiel had been a little worried (when he had the presence of mind to worry) that Dean would get bored after a while. Even someone who liked sex as much as Dean did could begin to find it a tedious chore when it was all they were doing for days on end. But no, he was as patient and thorough and enthusiastic the twenty-fifth time as he had been the first. 

And when they weren't fucking or sleeping, Dean focused his energy on minimizing Castiel's discomfort any way he could — keeping him clean, making sure he drank enough water, and massaging his back and legs so the muscles wouldn't seize up from the contorted positions he had to spend most of his time in. If Castiel hadn't already been in love with Dean, he would have been well on his way to it by the time he finally woke with no twinging pains in his gut and no burning desire between his legs.  
  
Dean was already awake, and he smiled at Castiel, a lazy, sleepy smile that made a bittersweet pang of emotion rise up in Castiel's chest. He was relieved to be free of pain and in control of himself again, but oh he was going to miss waking up in Dean's arms, the alpha's scent mingling with his own and making him feel safe and cared for. 

Dean had noticed the lack of mating pheromones in Castiel's scent. "Guess we're out of the woods," he said, and was it Castiel's imagination or did he too seem a little regretful that their time together was over? 

"It seems so." As Castiel stretched languidly, he caught a whiff of his own armpit and wrinkled his nose. "I need a shower." 

"Yeah. Me too," Dean chuckled, "but you can go first." 

Castiel frowned. "There's no reason either of us should have to wait. Modesty is somewhat irrelevant at this point."  
  
Dean's brow furrowed too. "Well, yeah, but … I just figured you'd want some privacy. I mean I've been literally up your ass for almost a week." 

Castiel's heart stuttered. There it was. Dean didn't want to be around him anymore. It was too awkward, or Dean was just tired of his company. After everything their friendship had survived, that this was what broke them was so … unfair. Tired and overwrought as he was, Castiel couldn't keep the hurt out of his scent or suppress the tears that stung his eyes. Damn human hormones. 

"Whoa. Hey. No, no, no. I didn't meant it like that." Dean reached out to cup Castiel's cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears as they fell. "Please don't cry, Cas. I'm not sick of you. I just thought you might be sick of me. I thought you'd want some time to yourself, but if you want me to shower with you, that's okay too. Whatever you want." 

This produced such a tangled knot of emotions inside Castiel that he began to cry in earnest. Bewildered and desperate to comfort his omega but having no idea what the cause of this sudden meltdown was and therefore no idea how to fix it, Dean pulled Castiel into his arms and rubbed his back soothingly. Even Castiel wasn't sure what was making him so miserable, so he just chalked it up to residual heat hormones and let the tears flow. 

It was incredible what a difference a good cry could make. When he ran out of tears, Castiel felt exhausted, wrung out. His throat hurt, and his eyes itched, and his mouth somehow felt dry and sticky at the same time. But he also felt clear headed and rational again. He lifted his head from Dean's shoulder and looked the alpha in the eye. "What are we now, Dean?" he asked. "Are we still friends?" 

"Yeah. Course we are," Dean said without hesitation. 

"And are friends allowed to have sex with each other?"  
  
Dean's eyebrows rose and a small, bemused smile quirked his lips. "Yeah," he said, drawing out the word a little. "If they both want to." 

"I want to have sex with you." Castiel realized how that might sound and quickly clarified, "Not right this minute. In a few days when we've both recovered. I want … I'd like to know what it feels like to do that purely for the pleasure of it." 

Dean's expression was suddenly unreadable, and he was controlling his scent just as carefully. 

Castiel's heart sank. "Of course, if you don't want to, that's —" He didn't get any farther because his mouth was suddenly occupied with other activities. 

It should probably have seemed strange that they had spent the last several days naked in bed together but had only kissed twice very briefly, but since Castiel had no other romantic or sexual experiences to compare it to (unless the pizza man counted, but he was fairly sure it didn't), he hadn't really thought about it. Now he realized that he'd been missing out. Dean was possibly a better kisser than he was a lover, and that was saying something. His tongue teased and stroked and tasted. His teeth, just a bit sharper than the average human's because he was an alpha, nipped ever so gently at Castiel's bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood or even cause pain, but enough to send the tiniest shiver of desire down Castiel's spine. There was no way he could actually get turned on right now, but he sure wished he could. 

Dean finally pulled away and rested his head against Castiel's. His scent was slightly more aroused than the omega's, but not by much. Without heat pheromones egging it on, his libido would essentially go into hibernation for a few days while his body recharged, although his protective and nurturing instincts would kick into overdrive, urging him to pamper his potentially pregnant omega. (Evolution had never been notified of the invention of contraceptives.) "I do want to," he said, still a little breathless. "Whenever you're ready." 

Castiel nodded, relief and happiness washing through him until he smelled positively giddy. "Okay. Then let's take a shower, alpha." 

~o0o~

The kind beta nurse who had contacted Dean on Castiel's behalf gave Castiel a thorough evaluation before discharging him to make sure he hadn't suffered any injuries or infections during his heat. When she explained this, Dean gave an involuntary growl at the implication that he would hurt his omega or fail to notice that his omega was hurt, but the nurse was not intimidated, or at least didn't show it. She calmly elaborated. "Accidents happen even during ordinary sex, and the heat hormones can cover up the pain so you don't notice it until later. We have to be thorough. Our first priority is the patient's health and safety." 

Castiel took Dean's hand and squeezed it reassuringly, letting trust and calm suffuse his scent. Dean relaxed and even grunted an apology though he did not make any other show of submissiveness, partly because the gesture would be meaningless to a beta, but also partly, Castiel suspected, because it was more than his inner alpha that was offended by the nurse's doubts. Dean Winchester took good care of the people he loved, and he wore it as a point of pride because he secretly believed that it was his only redeeming virtue. When the nurse declared Castiel "fit as a fiddle" (a puzzling phrase), Dean made a huffing noise that said more eloquently than words, _Told you so._  
  
When the nurse delicately raised the issue of payment, Dean produced a credit card. Fake, Castiel was sure, but if he understood the process correctly, the clinic would still get paid. It was only that the bank wouldn't be reimbursed for the money they had fronted to a nonexistent person. The bank hadn't saved Castiel's life, and in his brief time as a human Castiel had become intimately acquainted with the delicate ethics of survival. It was all very well for God to say, _Thou shalt not steal._ God didn't need to eat.


	3. Complicated

Sam had expected Cas to be tired and sad, probably still a little weak from whatever illness or injury he had suffered. (Dean's texts had been stubbornly vague, just repeatedly insisting that Cas was on the mend and they would come home as soon as he was "well enough to travel" whatever that meant.) The ex-angel did look tired, but not sad. Not in the slightest. As he followed Dean down the steps to the war room, he gazed around him in wide eyed wonder. He was perhaps moving a bit slower than usual, but not like he was in pain. It was just that before there had always been something slightly supernatural in the way Cas moved, the utter confidence of a celestial being who had never had to worry about stubbed toes or banged shins. Now he was walking like an ordinary person, thinking about where he was putting his feet. There was no lingering hint of illness in his scent either. He seemed happy and healthy if a little worn out. 

It finally clicked for Sam when he stepped forward to give Cas an I'm-glad-you're-not-dead hug, and Dean _growled_. To his credit the warning rumble only lasted about two seconds before he got himself under control, and then he looked and smelled more embarrassed than anything else, but it was an unmistakable declaration of _Hands off_ my _omega_. Sam took a hasty step back and dropped his hands to his sides. "You're … You two are —" 

"No," Dean said. When Sam gave him a skeptical look, he conceded, "Well, sort of. It's complicated, but feel free to hug him. Not that you need my permission. I'm gonna go put my stuff in my room." He fled as quickly as he could while also fighting to make his body go against its ancient instincts.

Sam's eyes darted to Cas's neck, but there was no mating bite, just the fading marks of a few hickeys. He quickly looked away. "So, um … do you want a hug or … not?" he asked tentatively. When an omega was in the after stages of a heat cycle, they often found physical contact with an alpha who was not _their_ alpha uncomfortable verging on violating. 

"I think not," Cas said, his cheeks tingeing pink. "But I am very glad to see you looking so well, Sam. Dean says the Trials took a heavy toll on you." 

"Yeah. Not as bad as it would have been if I'd finished though."  
  
Cas tilted his head in that "curious bird" way of his. "Do you regret it?"  
  
"What? Not dying?"  
  
"Yes." 

Sam actually had to think about it for a second, but then he said with certainty, "No. No, I'm glad to be alive." 

Cas smiled softly. "Yes. So am I." 

At that moment a wave of fatigue washed over Sam, so strong that he had to sink into the nearest chair lest he collapse where he stood. They were getting fewer and farther between, but he still needed a nap most days, and going out on hunts was out of the question if just walking around the bunker was this exhausting. 

"Sam?" Cas said worriedly. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. I just still get tired sometimes. Well, all the time actually. It's like my battery can't get up to a full charge." 

Cas pulled up a chair next to him though he still kept a cautious buffer space between them. "Your body has been under a terrible strain for months. Ever since the first Trial. It will take time for all the damage to heal, and pushing yourself too hard will only hinder the process." 

Sam smiled. "You sound just like Dean." 

"Your brother is a smart man despite his protests to the contrary." 

"Yeah. So you and him —" 

"I don't want to talk about it," Cas cut him off gently but firmly. "Not yet. As Dean said, it's complicated." 

"Yeah. Okay." They sat in silence for a few moments. Dean was still nowhere to be seen, and Sam suspected he was forcing himself to stay away as long as he could to prove both that he trusted Sam and that he didn't view Cas as his property. "So," Sam said, "do you think there's any chance you could get your grace back?" 

"I don't know," Cas said. "There is a distinct possibility that it doesn't exist anymore, that Metatron used it all in the spell. And even if he kept some, he will have hidden it well. Right now …" The fallen angel leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his scent a mixture of weariness and contentment. "Right now I don't have the energy for a quest. I'm just happy to have a roof over my head, food, a real bed to sleep in, and …" He trailed off, but Sam could guess how that sentence would have ended. _And Dean._

~o0o~

Sam didn't get a chance to talk to his brother privately until much later that night. Dean busied himself with getting Cas settled in one of the many spare bedrooms (the one closest to Dean's own room, Sam noticed), and then he made dinner and coaxed/bullied Kevin into eating with the rest of them. The presence of another omega seemed to relax the kid a bit, and the atmosphere around the table was pleasant, convivial. Almost like a normal family dinner, or so Sam imagined. 

When it came time to clean up, Kevin of course disappeared back to his room with almost magical speed, and when Sam tried to get up to help he almost collapsed again, so Dean sent him to bed. But despite how exhausted his body was, his brain refused to shut down. He kept replaying every interaction he had witnessed between Dean and Cas in the past few hours, trying to figure out if this development in their relationship was a good thing or not. Finally he dragged his leaden limbs out of bed and went looking for his brother. 

He found Dean alone in the kitchen. Making _tea_ of all things. "That for Cas?" Sam asked. 

Dean grunted, which Sam translated as, _What do you_ think _?_

"Dean," Sam said cautiously, aware that he was stepping onto thin ice, "please don't bite my head off for saying this because I don't mean it as a challenge, okay? It's just … This is all new to him. Sex and relationships and alpha-omega dynamics. You can't … You can't make any assumptions about where this is going." 

Dean's back stiffened, and his scent turned sharp and acrid with possessive alpha rage, but he didn't move, didn't even say anything for almost two whole minutes. Sam breathed through his mouth so Dean's aggressive scent wouldn't get his own inner alpha riled up, and he waited patiently while his brother wrestled his instincts under control so they could have a civilized human conversation. Finally Dean said simply, "I know." 

When nothing else was forthcoming, Sam figured that was as good as he was gonna get and prepared to beat a hasty retreat while he still had a throat, but when he was halfway out the door, Dean suddenly spoke again. 

"He was dying." 

Sam turned back around. Dean wouldn't look at him, was staring intently at his own feet, but his scent had evened out except for a faint sour note of miserable confusion. It occurred to Sam that although in the area of sex Dean was miles more experienced than Cas, when it came to real relationships and the emotions that went along with them, Dean was possibly even more clueless than the angel. 

"The heat was killing him," Dean went on haltingly, seeming to pull the words up from somewhere deep inside him. "And he wouldn't let anyone near him. Except me. He trusted me enough to let me … help him." Even though he was speaking in the vaguest, most euphemistic terms possible, Dean still turned red as a beet. "And now … I know he's fragile. I know this is the worst fucking time to figure this out, but I think … I think I'm in love with him, Sam. I think I have been for a very long time." 

Sam felt a grin spread over his face and heard himself say before he could bite back the words, "Well, no friggin duh." 

Dean looked up, blinking owlishly. "You knew?!" 

"Of course I knew. Dean, the … the staring alone." 

"Well, why didn't you say something?" Dean practically wailed. 

"Would you have listened?" 

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

"Exactly," Sam said smugly. "The only way you, Dean Winchester, were going to have an honest conversation about this was if you got there on your own."  
  
"Well, here I am." Dean spread his arms helplessly. "What … What do I do?" 

"Seems like you've already done something about it."  
  
"No. No, we had sex. And we agreed that we're both open to the idea of having sex again. There's a world of difference between that and a real relationship. Even _I_ know that." 

Sam smiled. "Well, that's a good start. So you do want a real relationship with him?" 

"Yes," Dean snapped impatiently, his tolerance for this conversation clearly dwindling fast. "Haven't you been listening? I love him. But what if he …" He trailed off, but once again Sam could hear the words that weren't said. _What if he doesn't love_ me _? What if he only wants me because sex is a novelty for him right now and I'm willing and convenient? What if he gets bored? What if he finds someone better, someone worthy of him? What if he leaves me?_

"Just talk to him, Dean," Sam said gently. "Tell him how you feel. And like I said, don't make any assumptions." 

His therapist/matchmaker duties done for the time being, Sam left his brother to it and went back to bed. His last thought before slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep was, _Thank God the bunker has thick walls._


	4. There Are No Sheep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're expecting Dean to say the big L word in this chapter, you clearly don't know him very well. Be patient with him. He'll get there.

Dean Winchester was no coward. He faced down literal monsters out of nightmare on a daily basis. His life had basically been one long horror movie since he was four years old. Safe to say it took a lot to really scare him. But confessing his feelings to Cas? Yeah, _that_ scared the shit out of him. And the fact that they'd already had sex (a _lot_ of sex) made things ten times worse because now he knew what it felt like. If this didn't work out, he knew exactly what he'd be losing, and he wasn't sure he could ever get over it, could ever stop wanting Cas. 

_Don't make any assumptions,_ Sam had said, and Dean knew he meant it both ways. Don't assume he wants the same things you want, but don't assume he _doesn't_ want that either. Don't assume he sees you the same way you see yourself — unworthy. 

But how could Cas _not_ see him that way? Cas had seen Dean at his worst, in the pits of Hell, drenched in blood and reveling in it. At least all of _Cas's_ mistakes had been made with good intentions. Fixing Heaven, saving humanity. Dean had become a monster just to spare himself more pain. Cas might have no choice but to live the rest of his life as a human, but he didn't have to tie himself to someone like Dean. Right now he was lost and confused and clinging to anything familiar, but as soon as he found his balance, he would realize that he could do so much better. 

Dean took a deep breath and got his scent under control before he knocked on the door of Cas's room. A gravelly voice called out, "Come in." 

Cas was sitting up in bed, but he wasn't reading or doing anything. He was just staring around the room as though trying to memorize every detail. His borrowed pajamas were a little too big on him which emphasized how skinny he was. He'd admitted to Dean that before the clinic he'd been alternately stealing and begging to get by, and while he was in heat his body had burned up every calorie he consumed. Dean decided that tomorrow he would make a big breakfast. Eggs and bacon _and_ pancakes. Sam and Kevin could both use some fattening up too. 

Cas saw the steaming mug in Dean's hand and smiled. "You didn't have to do that." 

Dean ignored this and handed him the tea. "It's chamomile with milk and honey. Sam says it helps him sleep." 

"Thank you." Cas took a sip and hummed in approval. "It's delicious." 

Dean's inner alpha preened. 

He knew this was an opportune moment to have the relationship conversation. Sam and Kevin were both asleep. Crowley was of course locked in the dungeon. No one was going to interrupt them. And sex was a complete non-issue for several more days so they wouldn't get distracted, and they could really discuss this rationally. 

"Do you, uh … Do you have everything you need?" Dean asked, hating himself more with every cowardly word. 

Cas nodded. "Yes. I'm quite comfortable. I like this place very much." 

Something uncertain and almost wistful in Cas's tone prompted Dean to say, "This is _your_ home too now, Cas. For as long as you want. You're not a guest. You're family." 

Cas smiled shyly, and the sweet scent of happy omega mingled with the scent of chamomile. "Thank you, Dean," he said, meeting Dean's eyes. "That means a lot to me." 

Another perfect opportunity. They were looking into each other's eyes, the world was still and quiet, and it felt like nothing existed but the two of them. 

"Okay," Dean said, shuffling awkwardly backwards toward the door. "If you need anything I'm right across the hall." 

Cas looked like he wanted to ask Dean to stay a little longer, but all he said was, "Okay. Good night, Dean." 

"Night."

~o0o~

They had agreed to sleep in separate rooms for the time being. Firstly because their bodies might not recover at the same speed, and this way no one would feel pressured to take care of anyone else's needs before they were ready. And secondly, a little distance would help the pseudo mating bond that formed between an alpha and an omega during a heat cycle to fade faster which would make it easier for Dean to keep his territorial instincts in check. 

It was a great plan in theory, but Dean hadn't accounted for one thing. He had gotten used to sleeping with Cas, not just euphemistically but literally as well. He tossed and turned on his memory foam mattress, missing the extra warmth of another body in the bed with him and the scent of a contented omega. He breathed in the fresh laundry smell of his sheets, usually so comforting because it was so different from the way motel sheets smelled, a reminder that he had a home now and a bed of his own, but right now it just smelled sterile and lonely.

He was just about ready to give up on sleep and watch a movie or something when there was a soft tap on his door. He knew who it was even before the door opened a crack and a pair of bleary blue eyes peered in at him. Seeing that Dean was awake, Cas opened the door the rest of the way, but then he just stood there in the square of light spilling through from the hallway, rubbing his bare feet together to ward off the cold. _Should've given him socks,_ Dean chided himself. 

"You can't sleep either, huh?" he guessed. 

Cas nodded but still seemed reluctant to actually voice the request he had obviously come here to make. Dean couldn't blame him. _Can I sleep with you?_ It either sounded like a proposition, or it sounded like a toddler who'd had a bad dream. 

"It's okay," Dean said. "C'mere." He lifted the blanket and scooted to one side of the bed. 

Cas wasted no time crawling in beside Dean. His feet were icy cold, but Dean rubbed them with his own until they warmed up. "I had trouble sleeping before too," Cas said into the darkness. "Before the clinic. A man told me to try counting sheep, but there were no sheep." 

Dean chuckled at the absolute Cas-ness of the statement. He could practically hear the angel's puzzled little frown. "It's not literal, Cas. It's in your head. You imagine a whole lot of sheep, and you start counting them, and then … I don't know. I guess you fall asleep from sheer boredom. That's never worked for me." 

"What do you do?" Cas asked. 

"Watch something dumb on TV. Read a book. Or … you know." He realized Cas probably _didn't_ know. "Jerk off." 

"You mean masturbate?" 

Dean smiled. Cas's tendency to phrase everything in the bluntest, most uncomfortable terms possible usually annoyed him, but right now it was strangely reassuring, another sign that he was still the same old Cas. "Yeah," he said easily, a little surprised by how not awkward this conversation was. Maybe the week of marathon sex had something to do with it. If that hadn't made things awkward, then nothing could. "It's not as good as the real thing, but it does the trick when you're already tired and you just need something to relax you."  
  
"Hmm," Cas said thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind, but I doubt it would work right now." From anyone else that would have sounded dryly ironic, but Cas was just stating a fact.  
  
"Yeah, no," Dean agreed. "I don't think I could get off right now even if I was getting paid for it." 

They laid there in silence for a while, but Dean could tell by Cas's scent and the sound of his breathing that he was still awake. Suddenly Cas inched closer to Dean and tentatively nuzzled his shoulder. Dean was at first surprised and confused. This seemed an awful lot like foreplay. But then Cas said, "Dean, can I … can I smell you?"

In answer Dean tipped his head back, exposing his throat. He could have just turned to the side, giving Cas access to the scent gland behind his ear, but the extra gesture of trust felt … right. 

Cas burrowed his face into Dean's jugular, breathing deep. His stubble rasped against Dean's skin. Dean cupped the back of Cas's head and encouraged him to press closer. A faint moan escaped Cas as he exhaled, and yeah, this would definitely be turning Dean on if it could. 

After a couple minutes of scenting Dean's throat, Cas moved to the side of his neck so that Dean could scent him at the same time. They eventually fell asleep like that, Cas sprawled across Dean's chest, their faces buried in each other's necks, completely wrapped up in each other. And for the moment at least, that was all they needed. 


	5. Shopping and Other Dangerous Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Discussion of homophobia and a semi-graphic fight scene.

"What about this one?" 

Castiel rubbed the fabric of the t-shirt between his fingers and wordlessly shook his head. 

Dean sighed but put the shirt back without argument. 

They had been wandering around the men's clothing section of Target for half an hour and had only found two shirts that met with Castiel's grudging approval. Dean insisted that he needed at least five and three pairs of pants. Castiel would have happily continued to wear Dean's clothes. They were soft on his skin, worn in by years of use, and Dean's scent permeated the fabric so thoroughly that the laundry could never completely wash it out. But Dean felt it was important for Castiel to have his own stuff. Stuff that fit him properly and didn't make him smell like … well, like he belonged to Dean.  
  
Castiel's inner omega had practically howled in anguish when the alpha said that, but his higher reasoning conceded that Dean had a point. They weren't mated ( _yes, please, oh please, mate me, bite me, my alpha, only mine_ ). They were just friends. Friends who had been sharing a bed every night because neither of them could sleep soundly unless the other was less than an inch away. 

They hadn't made love again although in the past few days Castiel had noticed his body sending signals that it thought it might be ready. (Only around Dean. He had been deeply relieved to discover that he didn't respond that way to Sam.) Dean's scent occasionally had a musky quality too, particularly in the early mornings when he was pressed up close to Castiel, warm and relaxed and still half asleep, but the alpha had made no attempt to initiate anything more exciting than a cuddle. He hadn't even tried to kiss Castiel since that last day at the clinic, and Castiel couldn't quite find the courage to make the first move. 

Things had been so simple when he was in heat. His body knew what it needed, and all he had to do was stop fighting it. What if it wasn't the same this time? What if he didn't know what to do, how to satisfy Dean? What if he did it wrong?

"Hey. What's wrong?" A warm hand pressed between his shoulder blades, a calloused thumb caressing his neck just above the collar of his borrowed shirt. "You don't have to get that one if you don't like it." 

He realized he was staring blankly at a black t-shirt with a picture of a snow leopard on it, his scent getting more and more distressed as his thoughts spiraled out of control. "No, that's not … I like this one," he said, adding it to the small pile in their cart. 

He didn't really. It was gaudy and attention grabbing. He would have preferred something plain, something that would blend into a crowd, but the sooner he picked five shirts and three pairs of pants, the sooner they could go home. He didn't like this place with its echoing ceilings that amplified every little sound and towering shelves that blocked lines of sight, making it much too easy for someone to sneak up on them. He didn't much like the people either with their strange scents and their staring eyes. 

"Why is everyone staring?" he muttered as a woman pushing a baby stroller paused at a nearby display of flannel pajamas and cast several not-so-covert looks in their direction.  
  
"Because we're two guys, and it's kind of obvious that we're a little more than friends." Dean stared pointedly back at the woman until she looked away. 

"Yes, but I'm an omega and you're an alpha. We're not actually the same gender." 

"Well, you're kind of big for an omega, and from a distance it's hard to pick up on the details of our scent. They probably think we're both betas. Not that it should matter even if we were," Dean added bitterly. "Just ignore them, Cas. It's none of their business what kind of relationship we have." His hand slid down to rest on Castiel's hip, and he dipped his head to lay a feather light kiss on the omega's neck. 

Castiel shivered slightly, and without conscious impulse, found himself leaning back against Dean, melting in his alpha's arms. 

Dean's lips grazed the shell of Castiel's ear, and he murmured, "Stay calm. Don't react to what I say. I think we're being followed."  
  
Castiel blinked in surprise, but he managed to keep his posture relaxed. To anyone watching they would still seem like an ordinary couple getting just a little too intimate in public. "Where?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet enough that only Dean would hear. He ignored the twinge of disappointment that this sudden display of affection was only a cover. They had more important concerns. 

"Over by the shoes. Turn towards me, then slide your eyes to the left." Despite the completely non-sexual nature of the conversation, the low vibrations of Dean's voice near his ear and the alpha's hot breath on his skin were very pleasant. His sex drive was definitely waking up again. 

Castiel turned to face Dean, then looked left out of the corner of his eye. There was a scruffy man in a leather jacket standing by a rack of boots, but he wasn't paying Dean and Castiel any attention. "What makes you think he's following us?" 

"Because he's been staring at the same pair of boots for the past ten minutes. Only women are that indecisive about shoes. And I think I remember seeing him at the gas station earlier too. Could be nothing. Could be something." 

Castiel slid his hand up Dean's chest and around the back of his neck as though getting ready to pull him in for a kiss. "How do we tell for sure?" 

"Leave and see if he follows." Dean didn't seem completely unaffected by their little charade either. His pupils were more dilated than the brightly lit store warranted, and his scent was getting stronger, earthier. 

"And if he does?" 

"Well, I've got a gun and you've got your angel blade. No matter what he is, one of those will work." Dean took a step back, and Castiel had to quell another surge of bitter disappointment. Dean retrieved the clothes Castiel had picked, leaving the cart where it was, and then he held up the snow leopard t-shirt and gave Castiel a skeptical look. "You sure about this one? Doesn't really seem like your style." 

"It's not," Castiel said with a faint smile. "Leave it." 

~o0o~ 

Dean payed for the two shirts, and they headed out to the parking lot. For a few minutes Castiel thought it had been a false alarm after all. He didn't see the man following them, but then he spotted him standing beside a gray pickup parked a few spaces away from the Impala. He must have left the store ahead of them, trusting the check out line to hold them up and give him time to get in position. Or maybe it was a coincidence. He just happened to leave at the same time as them. The store didn't have shoes in his size. Maybe. 

They got in the Impala and pulled out of the parking lot. Dean didn't turn on the radio or talk, a sure sign that he still thought they might be in danger. Behind the wheel of his Baby, Dean was usually more relaxed than he was anywhere else, laughing and singing, loud and deliberately off key, playing what Sam called "the dashboard drums". Now his mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were fixed on the road except when they darted to the rearview mirror where a gray pickup was visible. Keeping its distance for now, but definitely following them. 

Castiel noticed that they were headed in the opposite direction of the bunker. "Where are we going?" he asked. 

"Not sure. Gotta find an isolated spot where no civilians will get caught in the crossfire. Do me a favor and text Sam. Don't tell him what's going on, just that we're gonna be late getting back." 

Castiel pursed his lips disapprovingly but obeyed. Much as he hated lying to Sam, the younger Winchester could be no help to them in his current weakened state, and if he got worried enough he might … no, he would _definitely_ go searching for them and worsen his health. Castiel assuaged his conscience by phrasing the message so it wasn't an outright lie, merely an omission of certain facts. 

"Here." Dean abruptly turned the car onto a side road that wound through thick forest until it dead ended in a gravel parking lot at the head of a hiking trail. A chain was strung across the trail, more to discourage hikers than actually keep them out since they could easily get around it by cutting through the trees. A sign hanging from the chain said that the trail was closed due to fallen branches, and the Impala was the only car in the lot. 

Dean turned off the engine and got out. Castiel followed suit, and they stood side by side, waiting. Birds chirped, squirrels chattered, and a warm breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. "Maybe he didn't see you make the turn," Castiel said when they had been waiting almost ten minutes. "Maybe we lost him." 

"He saw," Dean said with certainty. "He's just taking his time, hoping we'll let down our guard." 

They waited some more. Suddenly they heard the crunch of feet on gravel. Coming from behind them. They both spun around, Dean's gun seeming to appear in his hand by magic, the process of drawing it happening too fast to follow. Castiel let his angel blade slide out of the rip in the lining of his hoodie where he had hidden it. It felt good in his hand, the metal solid and slightly warm from proximity to his body heat. A reminder that even without his grace or his wings, he wasn't completely powerless. He could still fight, and he had Dean. It was two against one. 

Except there were three people coming towards them. The scruffy man from the store. A girl in a yellow dress that looked like a waitress's uniform. And another man wearing a button down shirt, neatly pressed slacks and, incongruous in this setting, a white lab coat. Castiel didn't recognize any of them, but he knew who they were and what they wanted. Angels. Here to kill him. 

Dean must have figured it out too because he stepped forward and a little to the right, shielding Castiel with his body. His scent had gone wild with alpha protectiveness. 

"Give us the angel and we'll walk away peacefully," the girl said. A name tag pinned to her dress read, _Hello my name is April_. Castiel wondered what the real April was like and why she had chosen to let an angel possess her. "No one has to get hurt." 

"Yeah, except him," Dean said, his voice harsh as he struggled to control his alpha instinct to just leap for the throat of whoever was threatening his omega. He couldn't attack all three of them at once, and two could easily kill Castiel while one kept Dean busy. "You think I don't know what you want him for?"  
  
"He is a traitor," said the man in the lab coat. "He was in league with Metatron, helped him cast us out of Heaven." 

"I didn't know," Castiel said. It sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. "I didn't know what he was doing until it was too … too late." He trailed off as the eyes of his brothers stared back at him, cold and unforgiving. 

"He made a mistake," Dean said. "He doesn't deserve to die for it." 

"And who are you to decide that?" said the girl who wasn't really named April. 

Dean took a step closer to her. He had lowered his gun since he knew it wouldn't work on her, but his posture was no less aggressive. "I'm Dean motherfucking Winchester," he said in a voice as pleasant as poisoned honey, "and if you want to kill him, you'll have to go through me because he … is … _mine_." The last word was almost a growl, and despite the imminent danger, Castiel's inner omega purred to hear Dean lay claim to him. 

Then things started to move very fast. Castiel had never experienced a battle from a human perspective before. As an angel he was able to process things much faster so that seconds seemed to stretch into leisurely minutes. Now he barely had time to register that the scruffy man was barreling towards him before the man's weight was bearing them both to the ground. 

There were suddenly several different kinds of pain in various parts of his body, and he couldn't separate one from another to tell how badly he was injured. He somehow managed to roll on top of his opponent, literally gaining the upper hand, and before he could think about what he was doing, he sank his angel blade into the soft, yielding flesh of the man's belly. The man made no sound although his mouth opened in a pantomime of a scream as the angel inside him flared bright and died. 

The flash of light blinded Castiel for a moment, and while he was still blinking away the afterimages, a foot connected with his ribs hard enough to knock the breath out of him. He hit the ground sideways, gravel cutting into his cheek. His lungs didn't seem to be working very well, and he gasped uselessly like a beached fish. A pair of feet came into his line of sight, and then the girl who wasn't April crouched down in front of his face. 

"Castiel. Poor, dear, hopeless Castiel," she crooned, and it would have seemed almost kind if she hadn't been caressing his face with the tip of a blade. His own blade if he wasn't mistaken. "For all your talk about the importance of free will," she went on in a conversational tone, "you never seem to make the _right_ choices, do you?" 

It was getting easier to breathe again, but he kept acting like he couldn't. If she thought he was no threat, maybe he could move fast enough to get that blade away from her. 

"Crowley, Metatron, the Winchesters. You have terrible taste in friends. And even when you won, even when you defeated Raphael and were, for all intents and purposes, God, you managed to screw that up too. Killing you is practically a service to humanity. The longer you live, the more damage you cause. You're poison, Castiel. You see that, don't you? You corrupt everything you touch." 

The tip of the blade pressed more purposefully at Castiel's throat, and he knew that if he didn't move now, he never would again. Then, without warning, there was another flare of white light, and the girl who wasn't April anymore toppled over. Dead. 

"They always talk too much," Dean muttered to no one in particular as he helped a trembling Castiel to his feet. 

"The third one," Castiel said, part question, part warning. 

"Dead," Dean reassured him. "I stabbed him with his own blade." 

Castiel leaned against Dean in relief. Everything hurt, and a bone deep fatigue was settling over him as the adrenaline of the fight wore off. Dean's arms accepted Castiel without hesitation, and he rested his chin on Castiel's shoulder, murmuring into his neck, "It's okay. I got you. You're okay." 

They just stood there for a while, in the middle of a deserted parking lot, surrounded by dead bodies, clinging to each other for dear life. Then Dean said in his alarmed-but-trying-really-hard-to-stay-calm voice, "Um, Cas? You're bleeding." 

Castiel looked where Dean was looking and saw a rip in the sleeve of his sweater and a deep gash in the flesh beneath. It was bleeding slowly but steadily, and most of his sleeve was already damp and red. "Oh. That's why I'm so dizzy," he said. Or maybe he only said it in his head because a moment later he passed out. 


	6. Rules

"Angels," Dean said before Sam or Kevin could ask. "Three of 'em tried to ambush us. Didn't go so well for them." He helped Cas, who was conscious again but still very unsteady on his feet, into a chair. 

"Or for you from the look of it," Sam said, eyeing the blood soaked rag tied around Cas's arm.  
  
"Nah," Dean scoffed. "We're fine. Cas just needs a couple stitches and some orange juice. Right, buddy?" 

Cas, bless his heart, gave Sam a weak but reassuring smile and said, "I believe there is a popular human saying for situations like this. You should see the other guy." 

Sam laughed and went to get the first aid kit while Kevin said he would rustle up some cookies and juice to bring Cas's blood sugar back up. As soon as they were gone Cas's smile became a grimace of pain. 

"Okay. Before they come back, how bad is it really?" Dean said in a tone that brooked no half truths. 

"Bad." Cas tried to shift his arm into a more comfortable position, winced, and quickly stopped moving. "Honestly my ribs hurt worse than my arm. I think she might have broken one of them when she kicked me." 

"Okay. I'll check on that after we get your arm patched up. In the meantime try not to move too much." Dean had no idea how he was keeping his voice and his scent so calm. His inner alpha was howling at him to hunt down everyone who had ever dared to even _think_ of hurting his omega and rip their throats out, make _them_ bleed first. But savage displays of possessiveness wouldn't heal Cas's wounds. Cas didn't need an alpha right now. He needed Dean.  
  
As he looked into those pain clouded blue eyes, the realization hit Dean like a bullet to the heart. _I almost lost him. Fuck. He could have died today, and he would never have known how I feel. And I would never have known if he feels the same._ As scary as the thought of finally saying those words out loud was, that was a hundred times scarier. For a moment the terror gripped Dean like an iron band around his chest, squeezing the breath out of him. And then it … shifted. Changed. Crippling fear turned to an iron hard resolve. _Enough of this insecure bullshit. I have to tell him. Before it's too late. Shit, how many times have we both_ actually _died? How many more second chances am I gonna get?_

He opened his mouth. _I love you_. Three simple words, and also not simple at all. He wished Cas could still read his mind so he wouldn't have to say it, but if this was the only way, then he would do it. For Cas he would do it. "Cas, I —"  
  
And of _course_ that was when Sam came back with the first aid kit. 

"You what?" Cas asked, puzzled when Dean let the sentence hang there unfinished. 

"Nothing. It's … We can talk about it later. When you're not bleeding to death." Dean wasn't sure if he was more relieved or disappointed. It was probably about equal. 

The smell of the disinfectant made his eyes sting, but anything was better than the scent of Cas's pain. 

~o0o~

By unspoken agreement Cas would be recuperating in Dean's room. It wasn't like he'd used the room across the hall all that much before, and this way if he popped a stitch or needed more painkillers in the middle of the night, he wouldn't even have to get out of bed to get help. It was as good an excuse as any. 

Cas elected to sleep in just a pair of Dean's sweatpants rather than trying to maneuver his freshly stitched arm into a shirt, and normally Dean would have been thrilled to have all that gorgeous skin on display, but there were livid black and blue marks spreading over Cas's ribs (nothing was broken thankfully), and the sight of them was driving Dean's inner alpha — and the rest of him too if he was being honest — nuts with helpless protective rage. He wanted to kill the ones responsible, but he had already done that, and he wanted to take Cas's pain away with a touch like he had during the heat, but he _couldn't_ do that. So he brought Cas an extra blanket to ward off the bunker's perpetual chill, double checked that there was a water bottle on the nightstand where Cas could reach it (dehydration from blood loss was no joke), and he kept a tight rein on his scent lest Cas think Dean was angry at _him_ for some reason.

Once Cas was settled, Dean quickly changed into his own pajamas, turned off the light, and laid down on what he was starting to think of as his side of the bed. As opposed to Cas's side. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to Cas, and he didn't even care that it would definitely be cuddling, no way around that, but he was afraid of causing Cas pain. Cas solved the dilemma by rolling onto his good side, draping his injured arm over Dean's waist, and tucking his face into the curve of Dean's neck where the alpha's scent was strongest. "What did you want to tell me before?" he mumbled sleepily. 

"Oh. That. I, um …" Dean's resolve hadn't wavered, but it was so hard to make his throat and his tongue work together to form the words. _Shit, I am so screwed up_. "Cas, I … I don't want us to be friends who have sex." 

Cas tensed and pushed himself up on his good arm, peering at Dean through the darkness. His scent was confused, fearful, and too late Dean realized how that had sounded. "You don't want —" Cas started to say, his voice trembling a little. 

"No, no, no, no." Dean tripped over his words as he rushed to explain and soothe Cas's fears. "I still want to have sex with you, but I want you … I mean I want us to be _more_ than friends. A lot more. I want it to be more than just sex. I l—"

Dean felt his throat closing up again, his insecurities jeering that Cas couldn't possibly want _him_. No one had ever wanted _him_ , not even his own father. He was what people settled for when there were no better options. 

He took a deep breath and focused on nothing but those blue eyes, tuned out all the voices yelling at him to keep his stupid mouth shut. Better to get shot down than to never know, right? 

"I love you." 

There was a moment of perfect stillness in which it seemed like neither of them even breathed. Then Cas surged forward and crashed his mouth into Dean's. 

After all the years they'd spent working up to this, all the obstacles they had overcome, the literal and figurative hell they had gone through to be together in this moment at last, if there was any justice in the universe it would have been the perfect kiss, like something out of a fairy tale. In reality their lips barely touched before Cas pulled away and groaned, "Ow." 

"You okay?" Dean asked, concern trumping disappointment. 

"Yes. No. Everything hurts. I love you too." 

Dean laughed. Then he gently coaxed Cas onto his back and, holding himself carefully so that none of his weight was on Cas's ribs, kissed the omega breathless. The way their scents mingled, happiness and contentment and a faint thread of arousal, made Dean a little lightheaded too. It wasn't a fairy tale, but it was pretty damn perfect.

They were both worn out from a long day of shopping and close quarters combat, and Cas was way too fragile for sex, so Dean reluctantly ended the kiss before it could get them too worked up. They settled down in the nest of pillows and blankets again, finding through trial and error a position that was more or less comfortable for Cas. 

"So does this mean I'm your boyfriend now?" Cas asked. 

Dean wrinkled his nose. "I don't like that word. Teenage girls have boyfriends." Truthfully, if Cas had wanted to call himself Dean's smoochie-pie, Dean would only have put up a token resistance before giving in. Anything to make Cas happy. 

Cas chuckled. "It does sound rather juvenile, and it doesn't adequately describe this, does it?"  
  
"Do we really need a label?" Dean said. "I mean, _we_ know what we are. That's all that matters." 

Cas was quiet for a moment, and then he said very softly, "I'm not sure _I_ know. This is all very new to me, Dean. I don't … I don't know the rules." He sighed, a pained, weary, frustrated little sound, and buried his face in Dean's shoulder. 

Dean stroked his hair, realizing (though not for the first time) that he would never really understand how it worked inside Cas's head. Cas was so naive about some things, it was like talking to a child, except Cas _wasn't_ a child. He was ancient and powerful. He had seen the creation of the universe. He had commanded armies in battle. How frustrating and humiliating must it be for him to suddenly be so lost and helpless. Maybe what he really needed right now wasn't protection but control.  
  
"What do you want us to be, Cas?" Dean asked. "You pick any label you like. You make up the rules and I'll follow them." 

Cas lifted his head and propped his chin on Dean's shoulder. There was bemusement and shy hopefulness in his scent. "Isn't the alpha traditionally the dominant one in the relationship?" he asked. 

Dean shrugged the shoulder that Cas wasn't leaning on. "I've never been a traditional kind of alpha." 

Cas gave him a long, contemplative look. Finally he said without preamble, "Monogamy. I am yours, and you are mine. We do not sleep with other people. We do not flirt with other people. If I don't …" His voice faltered, but he pressed on. "If I don't meet your needs either physically or emotionally, then you will do me the courtesy of formally terminating our relationship before you seek satisfaction elsewhere. Is that clear?"

Cas's eyes held Deans' throughout this calm little speech, and Dean would never admit it, but it made his dick twitch. "Crystal," he said hoarsely. 

"Good," Cas said. And then the smug bastard put his head back down on Dean's shoulder and promptly fell asleep. 


	7. For You To Me Are the Only One

"Fuck," Dean groaned as he did just that, bucking up into Cas's tight, wet heat. 

Cas rocked down to meet him, gasping as the beginnings of Dean's knot caught on his rim, stretching him a little. The omega lost the rhythm for a moment, but then he picked it up again double time, moving up and down on Dean's cock so fast that Dean's strung out body could barely keep up.  
  
In the past few weeks Cas's bruises had faded to a sickly yellowish green, but his ribs were still tender, and there were only a few ways he could comfortably have sex. His favorite way, to Dean's delight, was riding his alpha into the mattress until they both saw stars.  
  
Dean was skating on the edge of orgasm now, and he thought he should hurry this along before he had a coronary, but when he tried to take Cas's rock hard cock in hand, Cas grabbed his wrist gently but firmly and said, "No." Dean made an undignified whining noise but obediently twisted his fingers in the sheets and let Cas have his way in every sense of the phrase. 

Satisfied that Dean wasn't going to rush him, Cas went back to working himself on the alpha's cock like he was getting paid for it, moaning unrestrainedly every time he caught on Dean's knot. His head was thrown back, exposing his throat to the alpha, and Dean really wanted to sit up and lick the sweat from his clavicle, but he stayed where he was, where Cas wanted him. His denied orgasm was getting painful, but he would rather die than come before Cas was completely satisfied. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity and also not nearly long enough, Cas came, his untouched cock spurting over his belly, and his ass clenching even tighter around Dean, forcing out a gush of sweet smelling slick that trickled over Dean's balls and soaked into the already filthy sheets. 

Dean planted his hands on Cas's trembling thighs and pushed up into him one more time, making sure he was buried to the hilt when he let go, his knot swelling inside of Cas and locking them together. That wasn't really necessary when the omega wasn't in heat or trying to get pregnant, but they both loved the way it prolonged their intimacy on every level, and it was even better when they had made love face to face. 

Once the last shuddering, blissful spasm had passed, Dean very carefully sat up and scooted them back towards the headboard so that Cas could rest his weight against Dean's chest while they came down. The omega immediately buried his face in Dean's neck and breathed deep, and Dean needed no encouragement to do the same. He loved the way Cas smelled after sex. He loved the way Cas smelled _during_ sex. He loved the way Cas smelled period. Sweet like honey, but also raw and wild like a thunderstorm. 

"That was good," Cas murmured. 

It sounded like a statement, but just in case it was really a question, Dean said with feeling, "That was _awesome_." 

He felt Cas smile against his neck, and the omega's scent got a little bit happier although it was hard to tell under the stronger odors of musk, sweat, slick, and come that pervaded the air. 

They cuddled in comfortable silence for a while, and Dean gave in to his inner alpha's desire to lick Cas "clean". They would need a shower to actually get clean and to wash off the smell of sex. Sam complained that they always smelled like sex these days (but there was a twinkle in his eyes when he said it, so Dean knew he was happy for them). 

Speaking of Sam, there was a knock at the door, and his brother's voice called, "Dean? You in there?" 

"Yeah. Just a second." Dean pulled over a blanket and wrapped it around their lower bodies. Then he called, "Okay. You can come in." He didn't bother to ask Cas if he was okay with Sam seeing them like this. He had discovered very early on that Cas had no shame. It wasn't exhibitionism exactly. The omega just did not care at all if someone else was in the room. Much to Sam and Kevin's dismay. 

Sam opened the door and immediately screwed his eyes shut, clapping a hand over them for good measure. "Dude! You could have told me to come back later."  
  
"Why? All the pornographic parts are covered." 

"Yeah, but it's still pretty obvious that you're …" The half of Sam's face that was visible was bright red.

"It's a beautiful natural act, Sammy," Dean said with undisguised glee. It had been a while since he'd had such a perfect opportunity to mess with his brother. "What did you want?" 

"I found something you should see," Sam said, still refusing to uncover his eyes. "Meet me in the war room when you're … finished." He bumped into the door frame on his way out, and Dean snickered. 

"I don't understand," Cas said, his brow wrinkling in his trademark puzzled frown. "He is well aware that we are lovers. We often kiss and "get handsy" in his presence." God, those air quotes. They would probably start to annoy Dean again at some point, but right now he was hard pressed to find anything Cas did less than completely adorable. "Why should this bother him more than that?" 

"Because he's a dork," Dean said and distracted Cas with a kiss before he could ask for further explanation. 

One kiss became two and then three, each more heated than the last. "You know the more sexually stimulated you are, the longer it will take for your knot to go down," Cas said, making no attempt to prevent Dean from suckling on his neck. 

"Mmhmm," was Dean's very articulate reply.

"And the longer we will have to keep Sam waiting."  
  
"So basically there's no down side."

~o0o~

"Hola, bitches. Your queen is here."  
  
Dean grinned and went to give his second favorite omega in the world a hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Hey, Charlie. Thanks for coming." 

Sam followed Charlie down the steps to the war room, looking tired but not like he was about to collapse, and Dean breathed a mental and literal sigh of relief. Driving into town to pick Charlie up from the bus stop had been Sam's first solo excursion out of the bunker since the Trials, and Dean had spent the whole time alternating between worrying about his brother and about his car. (Well, almost the whole time. Cas had successfully distracted him for about half an hour.) 

"No probs," Charlie said. "I'm kind of between jobs right now, so … lots of free time." There was something off about the way she said it, a hint of sadness behind her too bright smile, but before Dean could ask about it, her eyes slid past him to where Cas was standing a little uncertainly nearby. "You guys got a new roommate?" 

"Yeah. Charlie, meet Castiel. Cas, Charlie Bradbury." 

"Castiel?" Charlie's eyes widened. "As in the trench coat wearing angel who rescued you from Hell and then rebelled against Heaven to help you stop the apocalypse? That Castiel?" 

Dean blinked. "How do you … Oh. Of course. You read the books."

Charlie held out her hand to Cas. "Dude, it's an honor. And thanks for all the times you saved these guys' asses cause if you hadn't, _I'd_ probably be dead."

Cas shook the offered hand and said, "My pleasure," but his smile looked forced, and his tone was flat if not downright frigid. 

Dean gave him a questioning frown. What could possibly have caused him to take such and instant dislike to Charlie of all people? But Cas avoided Dean's eyes, and there were too many people in the room for Dean to pick out the details of his scent. Maybe he was just feeling shy and he would warm up given time. 

Charlie looked a little taken aback too, but she shrugged it off quickly and said, "So where's this Commodore 64 of yours?"  
  
Sam's discovery had turned out to be a computer. An ancient computer that occupied an entire room in a dusty, disused corner of the bunker. It had no visible power source, but it was warm and humming with activity nevertheless. Sam was pretty sure it had triggered the lockdown when the angels fell, and he had a theory that they could hotwire it to track individual angels and maybe avoid any more surprises like the one that had nearly gotten Dean and Cas killed. But the machine was an incomprehensible mess of wires, plugs, and switches, and of course the Men of Letters had never bothered to write a user's manual for their semi-magical computer. Thus the one woman geek squad. 

Charlie was in love at first sight. Kevin wandered in at some point, drawn by the scent of an unfamiliar omega, and once introductions had been made ( _"Prophet? Cool!" "No. It isn't. It sucks ass."_ ), the two started chattering to each other in what Dean could only assume was computer-geek-ese because it certainly wasn't English.  
  
It would have been the best day Dean had had in quite some time — so much of his family gathered in one place and no imminent doom hanging over them — except the person who mattered most had vanished after casting a parting death glare at a thankfully oblivious Charlie. 

"Dean," Sam said quietly while Charlie and Kevin were distracted by a particularly fascinating bundle of wires that looked to Dean like every other bundle of wires in the room. "You need to talk to Cas." 

"I know," Dean sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into him. I was sure he'd like Charlie." 

"She's an omega." 

"Exactly. I thought he'd enjoy having another omega to talk to. I mean, there's Kevin, but he barely comes out of his room. And like you said, all this gender stuff is new to Cas. He's gotta have questions that me and you can't ans—"

"Dean," Sam said in a tone that meant _stop talking and think for a second_. "She's an _omega_." 

And then it finally clicked in Dean's head, and he groaned. "Oh, God. I'm an idiot." 

"No argument here," Sam chuckled. "Now go find your boyfriend and make sure he knows he's got nothing to worry about." 

~o0o~

Dean found Cas in the library, staring at some ancient, leather bound book written in a language Dean recognized immediately as Enochian. He didn't look up when Dean sat down on the other side of the table, and now that they were alone, Dean could clearly discern the bitter notes of anger and jealousy in his omega's scent. 

"It's not like that, Cas," he said quietly. "Charlie … She's like a little sister to me. I don't think of her that way, and even if I did, she prefers girls." 

"Oh," Cas said, and he looked a little sheepish. 

"Hey." Dean reached out and gently tipped the omega's chin up until their eyes met. "You got no competition, sweetheart. From anyone. You're the only one I want." 

Cas finally smiled, and his scent sweetened again. He took Dean's hand and kissed the palm before pressing it to his cheek. "I'm sorry, alpha. I didn't truly doubt your fidelity for a moment. I don't know why I responded to her the way I did. I just … When you hugged her, I could both see and smell how much you care for her, and —"

"And your instincts went a little haywire. Happens to the best of us. If you recall, I once growled at my own brother for _almost_ hugging you. He didn't even actually touch you, and still for a second there I wanted to rip his head off." 

"But you didn't. I have been inexcusably rude to your friend." Cas closed his eyes and leaned his head into Dean's palm a little harder. "It's so confusing, Dean. My body says one thing, my mind says another, and I have no idea which one is really me." 

Dean remembered what it had felt like when he first presented. Like there was a wild animal inside him trying to claw its way out. "I know," he said. "It'll get easier with practice, Cas. And you gotta talk to me. I can help you figure this stuff out, but I can't read your mind."  
  
"It seems that you could today," Cas said, turning his head a little and scenting Dean's wrist, soothing his inner omega's lingering unease with undeniable evidence of his alpha's devotion.  
  
"Sam clued me in," Dean chuckled. "I never would have figured it out otherwise." 

"Oh, I don't know about that." Cas's tone suddenly shifted to one Dean had never heard from him before a few weeks ago and now couldn't get enough of — a seductive, sensual purr. "I intended to make my feelings inescapably clear as soon as we had some privacy." 

"Yeah?" The bunker suddenly felt much warmer than usual. "And how were you gonna do that, omega?" 

Cas let go of Dean's hand, stood up, and stalked — actually stalked, slow and smooth and predatory — around the table until he stood right behind the alpha. "I'll show you." He leaned down to breathe the words directly into Dean's ear. "Later." 

"Wh-why not now?" Dean asked, trying and failing to keep the whine out of his voice. 

"We have a guest, Dean. It would be terribly rude of us to disappear off to the bedroom." 

"I doubt Charlie would even notice. She's neck deep in that computer and happy as a clam."  
  
"Mmm. Good point." Cas's teeth grazed the back of Dean's neck, and Dean's breath came faster. And then Cas abruptly straightened up and said, "But if this morning is anything to go by, then delayed gratification is very good for our sex life." 

Dean couldn't argue with that, so he just groaned defeatedly and let his head flop back against Cas's chest. 

Cas chuckled and buried his nose in Dean's hair. "Don't you worry, alpha," he purred. "I promise it will be worth the wait." 


	8. Many Kinds of Love

"So what's really going on with you, kiddo?" 

Dean and Charlie were in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner. Kevin had as usual vanished just in time to avoid the chores, and Sam had gone to bed, the busy day finally catching up to him. He'd made significant progress in his recovery, especially in the last couple weeks, but he still wasn't up to full strength. 

Dean had been more than a little surprised when Cas left too. Being civil to Charlie was one thing. Leaving her alone with his alpha was something else entirely. But he didn't even kiss Dean senseless before leaving, making an exaggerated show of staking his claim. He just murmured in Dean's ear too low for anyone else to hear, "I'll be in our room. Take your time," then kissed him chastely on the cheek. And damned if that wasn't hotter than any over the top display of possessiveness. Cas trusted him. The knowledge sat warm and comfortable in Dean's heart, and his inner alpha purred contentedly.  
  
"What do you mean?" Charlie said, avoiding Dean's eyes by focusing intently on the plate she was drying. 

"Well, for starters, how long have you been out of work?"  
  
"A few months." 

"How many is a few?" 

"Six."  
  
"Charlie —"

"It's fine," she rushed on before he could say more than that. "I'm fine. Between my last few corporate gigs and my … less than legal work, I've got enough saved up that I can pretty much do whatever I want for the next thirty years provided I don't go crazy and buy an island." She gave him a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Honestly, I haven't really been trying to find a new job. I needed a break from the rat race." 

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Can't say I have personal experience, but I've heard the nine to five thing sucks." He finished scrubbing the stew pot and rinsed the soap out of it while he tried to decide if he should dig deeper. She was definitely hiding something, and the fact that her scent was perfectly neutral was the biggest give away. Charlie wasn't neutral about anything. She wore her heart on her sleeve and shouted her opinions for the whole world to hear. "So what have you been doing?" he finally asked as casually as he could. "Larping?" 

"No, I, uh … I kind of got bored with that." 

Dean blinked at her incredulously. "Seriously? I thought you loved it." 

"I did. It's just … Well, after I hunted that djinn with you guys, it was … It was like trying to go back to tofu veggie burgers after you've tasted the real deal. It was boring. So …" She stared down at her feet and said very quickly and very quietly, "SoI'vebeenhunting." 

" _What_?!" Dean's scent spiked sharply with alarm, and Charlie took an involuntary step back, obviously resisting her inner omega's desire to cower. An alpha's fear and their anger smelled very similar. Dean quickly got himself under control and made a concerted effort to keep his voice calm when he said, "You've been hunting? Alone?" 

She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Bad idea according to the Supernatural books." 

"Fuck the stupid books. Bad idea according to every hunter who's managed to live past thirty, and there aren't many of us. You know why? Because even hunting with a partner is dangerous. Hunting alone is fucking suicidal. Charlie, what happens if you're tracking a monster, and you've got it cornered, and then it turns out there are two of them, and the other one is right fucking behind you? That's happened to me more times than I can count, and the only reason I'm here to tell about it is that Sam was right behind the monster." 

"Well, I don't have a Sam or a Castiel!" Charlie snapped, anger flaring up in her scent. Dean realized he had never seen her actually get angry before. It was terrifying (and kind of cute although he knew better than to _ever_ tell her that). "All I've got, all I've ever had, is me. So I've learned to take care of myself, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it. I don't need some bossy, overprotective alpha telling me what to do with my life. I am not a child, and I am not _your_ omega." 

"I'm not saying this because you're an omega! I'm saying it because …" All the fight abruptly went out of Dean, and he reached out to touch her cheek. "Charlie," he said, soft and desperate, "do you have any idea how many people I've had to bury over the years? Please, please don't make me add you to the list. I can't —" His throat closed up, and his eyes stung. 

She just stared at him for a moment, her mouth open but no witty retort coming out. She seemed shocked, probably because she had never seen the great Dean Winchester cry. Then she leaned against his chest and said with a smile in her voice, "I love you too, Dean."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, certain that Cas would understand. 

"But you can't wrap me up in cotton and protect me from everything," she went on. "I'll die of boredom." 

"I know," he said, making a split second decision that he really hoped he wouldn't regret. "So stay. Hunt with _us_." 

She pulled back to look at him, her scent both hopeful and suspicious. "Really?" 

"Really. Clearly you're not gonna stop, so I'm damn well gonna make sure you know what you're doing." 

"You mean you'll train me?" Charlie squeaked. "I'll get to live in the Batcave, and you'll teach me to fight evil? I'll be Batgirl?!" 

"Exactly," Dean laughed. "You'll be my Batgirl. Does that make Sam Robin?" 

"Or Cas." A hint of worry tinged Charlie's happy scent. "Speaking of Cas, are you sure he'll be okay with me sticking around? He doesn't seem to like me very much." 

"He'll be fine with it," Dean said with certainty, thinking of Cas's trusting smile, his parting words. _Take your time_. "Once he's sure you're not gonna make a move on me, he'll warm up." 

"I knew it!" Charlie squealed loud enough to make Dean wince. "You _are_ together. Oh, I shipped you two so hard in the books. I'm so happy for you." 

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said gruffly. "Don't go all fangirl on me now, or I might change my mind about letting you move in." But he quite obviously didn't mean it. He couldn't keep the goofy grin off his face. 

~o0o~

He showered before going to his room. (His _and_ Cas's room now. The room across the hall sat empty, cold and scentless, while Dean's memory foam mattress carried the impression of two bodies, albeit two bodies that liked to sleep so close together they hardly took up more space than one person.) When he was sure that there was no trace of another omega's scent on him, he wrapped a towel around his waist and dumped his clothes in the laundry room. He needed to do a load tomorrow anyway. They'd never gotten around to buying Cas more than the two shirts, partly because Cas had been reluctant to leave the bunker at all since their run in with the angels, and partly because Dean really liked seeing and smelling Cas in _his_ clothes.  
  
He half expected to be thrown up against the wall as soon as he entered the room, was kind of hoping for it actually, but the sight that greeted him was a hundred … no, make that a million times better. Cas had scrounged up some candles, probably from one of the bunker's many store rooms full of random crap, and in addition to the warm golden light they gave off, there was an herby scent in the air that reminded Dean vaguely of Bobby's house, the only home he really remembered before this place. And in the middle of the bed, completely naked and haloed in candlelight, was his omega. 

Cas had probably been going for a seductive pose, but then he had fallen asleep. His head was tucked into the crook of his arm, and he was snoring softly, a line of drool making its way down his elbow to the fresh sheets. It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. 

He closed the door very quietly and let the towel fall to the floor. Then he carefully climbed onto the bed, grateful once again for his memory foam mattress which didn't bounce or squeak. He laid down on his side, face to face with Cas, and reached out to stroke the omega's cheek, feeling the prickle of stubble under his palm. Cas hated shaving, finding it a tedious and uncomfortable process, but he also disliked having a beard, saying it itched (although Dean thought he looked damn sexy with a beard), so he compromised by shaving as infrequently as possible, maintaining a permanent five o'clock shadow (which was also pretty damn sexy in Dean's opinion). 

Cas's eyes fluttered open, and Dean's breath caught in his chest when he saw the love and trust and naked, unguarded desire in those blue depths. "Hello," Cas said, his voice impossibly deep and rough from sleep. 

"Hi." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."  
  
"Don't worry about it." Dean slid his hand down Cas's side, ghosting lightly over his bruised ribs before settling on his hip. "You managed to seduce me pretty thoroughly even while unconscious. You're just that good." 

Cas laughed, and Dean leaned in to kiss his open mouth. The kiss went from soft and sweet to hot and heavy in under a minute, and it wasn't much longer before Dean was thrusting deep into his omega's warm, welcoming body. 

Cas was murmuring something over and over in Dean's ear. At first it sounded like just "alpha" with an occasional grunt of pleasure between the words, but then Dean realized he was saying, "My alpha. Mine, mine." Dean's hips stuttered, losing the rhythm, and he came so suddenly that it was over almost before he realized it was happening. Fortunately he had the presence of mind not to catch Cas on his knot. In this position there was no way for them to comfortably come down without Cas getting crushed. 

When he'd caught his breath a bit, he reached over to finish Cas and found him already soft and wet with his own release. Cas grinned lazily at him and taking Dean's hand, pressed the alpha's fingers into the still warm mess on his stomach, then coaxed the fingers up to Dean's mouth. 

"Jesus fuck," Dean chuckled. "For an angel, you are one kinky son of a bitch." He licked the come off his hand, then leaned down and and licked the rest directly from Cas's skin. Cas purred, and his scent grew so thick and sweet that it made Dean's mouth water and his still swollen knot throb with an echo of want. 

When Cas was clean, Dean disposed of the condom and used a tissue to clean himself. Then he laid down and gathered the omega into his arms again, tugging the blankets up over them to preserve the warmth of their lovemaking. The chilly bunker made sleeping naked a bit tricky, but through trial and error they had found the exact number of blankets that would keep them comfortable but not sweltering. 

"I gotta say, that was not what I was expecting from tonight," Dean said, carding his fingers through the wild mess of Cas's hair. It actually _was_ sex hair quite often these days, and Dean loved knowing that he was the one responsible for that, the only one who had ever touched Cas this way. 

"You thought I would be rough," Cas said. Not a question. "Possessive." 

"Yeah. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have minded if you were, but … I think I liked this better." 

The thing was that despite (or perhaps because of) his promiscuity, this was one kind of sex he hadn't had a lot of. Hadn't had at all really. The closest he'd come was with Lisa, and even that was nothing like this. He hadn't been in love with Lisa. She was safety and comfort when he was raw and aching. She was, as wrong as it sounded, like the mother who had been taken from him so long ago. He had gone to her bed because he was lonely and she was willing and never demanded anything from him that he couldn't give. And maybe also because he could tell how much she wanted him, and he felt guilty for taking and taking and giving her nothing in return. But even then his heart had belonged to the blue eyed angel who now lay, sleepy and sated, in his arms. 

Making love. He used to think it was just another euphemism, more polite and family friendly than calling it what it was — fucking. But this … this deep, intimate joining of bodies and souls was something else entirely. And it was something Dean had only ever given to Cas. 

"I didn't want you to think that I was punishing you, Dean," Cas said, lifting his head to look at Dean in the soft, flickering candlelight. "You did nothing wrong. Your affection for Charlie does not change or diminish what you feel for me any more than my friendship with Sam affects my feelings for you. There are many kinds of love." 

"So … you wouldn't mind if Charlie stuck around? Indefinitely?" Dean tightened his arm around Cas's waist. If he had to choose between them, he had no idea what he would do. 

Cas tilted his head in that oddly birdlike way of his. "It might be … challenging for me. At first. But no, I wouldn't object if you wanted her to stay. Do you?" 

"Yeah. I, um … I kind of already asked her." He watched Cas closely for any sign of displeasure, but the omega's scent remained sweet and clear, and his eyes held nothing but curiosity and the ever present love. Still Dean felt compelled to explain. "She's all alone, Cas. She needs a home, a family."  
  
"I understand," Cas said softly. He leaned down and kissed Dean, an added reassurance that they were okay and would continue to be okay as they navigated the challenges of incorporating another omega into their family dynamic. It wouldn't be easy for either of them, but they would figure it out. Together. 

"I love you," Dean murmured against Cas's lips. It was getting easier, more natural every time he said it. 

"I love you too," Cas whispered, his body starting to move against Dean's in a way that indicated he was hoping for another round. 

Dean was happy to oblige, and for a few hours nothing existed but the two of them in their little oasis of candlelight, making their kind of love.


	9. What We Deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Discussion of depression and suicide. (Nobody actually commits suicide. It's discussed in a very general way.)

While his body was still healing, it was easy for Castiel to justify not leaving the bunker. But the stitches had come out weeks ago, the bruises were almost invisible, and he had even gained a little weight thanks to Dean practically force feeding him homemade, protein rich soups and stews. He felt better than he had in a very long time. Not just strong and healthy, but happy too. (The frequent and extremely satisfying sex might have had something to do with that.) So he had no choice but to admit that the reason he hadn't been outside in almost a month had nothing to do with illness or exhaustion or even depression. 

He was scared. Of the hoards of angry angels intent on killing him obviously, but also of the humans, of the whole confusing world full of pitfalls he had never had to worry about as an angel. Out there no one would patiently explain to him the thousand and one things he didn't understand. At best they would give him that look, the one he had become so familiar with, the one that said, _What kind of thing are you because you are definitely not the same kind of thing as me_. He hated that look, and he hated the way they sometimes talked to him after that, like he was stupid or dangerous or both. In the bunker with his odd little patchwork family, he never had to worry about that. 

One day about a week after Charlie moved in, Castiel was in the library helping Kevin with the angel tablet translations. He couldn't read the tablet himself of course, but they had found an ancient codex written by some long forgotten prophet that translated fragments of tablet language into Elimite which Castiel could read. Sort of. Elimite was a very abstract language with each pictograph having hundreds of possible meanings depending on the context. It was slow going, and when Dean came in and started talking about a potential case, three people missing in a small town in Idaho and a strange substance found at all the crime scenes, Castiel was grateful for the distraction. Until he realized what Dean wanted from him.  
  
"You want me to come with you." 

It wasn't exactly a question, but Dean nodded anyway and said, "Yeah. It'll be fun. I'll even let you hold your badge upside down for old times' sake." 

Castiel smiled despite himself. He could smell Dean's excitement, his eagerness to get back to doing what he did best, and it was infectious. But the urge to stay here where life was safe and predictable still tugged at him insistently. 

"Can't you take Charlie?" A week ago he would never have suggested it. No matter how much his rational mind trusted Dean, his inner omega wouldn't have allowed the words to pass his lips. But to his own surprise he'd quickly grown to trust the spunky redheaded omega too. She was impossible to dislike, and she had never, by scent or body language, showed the slightest sign of sexual attraction to Dean. 

"I would if I could be sure that it was a ghost or a vamp or something relatively easy, but I got no idea what we're walking into here. She needs more practice before I throw her a wild card case like this. And Sam's still too tired, and I can't do this alone. Not after the lecture I gave Charlie about that. Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed, flashing his most charming smile. "Be my huckleberry." 

For once Castiel got the reference. Dean had been making him watch lots of classic movies lately, or at least movies that Dean deemed classics. But it wasn't the smile or the joke that swayed him. Ultimately it was the certain knowledge that if people were in danger Dean would not sit quietly at home no matter what he had told Charlie. He would hunt this thing down on his own if he had to, and he would kill it or die trying. And the thought of Dean walking out that door and never coming back scared Castiel more than anything else in the world. 

"All right," he said reluctantly. "When do we leave?"

~o0o~

Fortunately he made it back past the crime scene tape before he lost his breakfast, lunch, and everything else. The cops and crime scene techs gave him sympathetic looks, probably assuming he was a newbie who wasn't yet inured to grisly sights like the one inside that house. Otherwise they left him alone for which he was very grateful. 

He caught the reassuring scent of coffee and woodsmoke a moment before Dean crouched down beside him, laying a warm hand on his back. It was a neutral, friendly touch, not overly intimate. They had agreed to keep their relationship discrete while they were posing as FBI agents, a decision that Castiel was now deeply regretting. His inner omega wanted to cuddle into Dean, surround himself with his alpha's strong arms and the comfort of their mingled scents. He could almost believe that that would be enough to keep him safe from the monster that was stalking this town.  
  
_A monster I created._

"Hey. What was that all about?" Dean said gently. "You're not usually squeamish." 

"It's not that." Although the idea that he was standing in the vaporized remains of a once living, breathing human being was quite unpleasant, it wasn't disgust that had turned his stomach. It was a combination of guilt and terror. "I … I know what did this." 

Dean perked up, his scent changing from worried to hopeful. In terms of the case this was a good thing. Figuring out what they were up against and how to kill it was the most time consuming part of a hunt, and the sooner they could do that, the fewer people would die. So Castiel couldn't really blame Dean for sounding a little excited when he said, "Okay. What?" 

"Rit Zien." He knew that wouldn't mean anything to Dean. He was stalling, putting off moment by moment the admission that this was his fault. Four innocent people were dead because of his mistakes. 

"And that is?" Dean said with raised eyebrows.

Castiel closed his eyes. "A kind of angel. The name is Enochian for Hands of Mercy. They are healers. In the war with Raphael, they were the only angels who remained neutral, tending to the wounded indiscriminately."  
  
"Okay," Dean said again, slower and less certain. "So why is this one killing random humans?" 

"It's not random. The sheriff said that the victims were all unhappy, lonely, in pain in some way. The Rit Zien can sense pain, home in on it. That's how they find the wounded in the chaos of the battlefield. And if the wound is beyond their ability to heal, they —" 

Castiel broke off, unable to say the words, but Dean understood. "They put the person out of their misery," he finished quietly. 

"This is my fault." It was barely more than a whisper, but the words felt like ground glass in his throat, like he had been screaming them for hours or days. While he was safe and warm in Dean's arms every night, his brothers and sisters were wandering the world, lost and hurt and angry, a danger to themselves and every human who crossed their path. What right did he have to be happy while others suffered for his mistakes?

"Hey. No, it's not." Dean's hand squeezed the back of Castiel's neck. The alpha had never before exerted any of his powers of control over his omega. He never spoke with alpha voice or anything close to it, and he never pinched or bit the pressure point on Castiel's neck that would make the omega go limp and pliant. And he wasn't doing that now. He massaged the spot just firmly enough that Castiel felt his muscles loosen and relax instinctively, but not hard enough to make his brain relinquish control of his body, surrendering to his alpha whether he wanted to or not. Dean's voice too was insistent but soft, willing Castiel to listen but not forcing him to. "This is on Metatron, not you. Do you hear me?" 

Castiel sighed. If he didn't deserve to be happy, why had the universe given him Dean Winchester? It seemed incredibly unfair. "Yes. I hear you," he said which was true. He didn't say anything about believing it. 

Judging by the look on Dean's face and the lingering worry in his scent, he knew what Castiel was thinking, and this conversation was far from over, but he let subject drop for now. "So we're hunting an angel," he said. "Which means they'll look like an ordinary person right up until they smite some poor suicidal son of a bitch."

"It might actually be worse than that," Castiel said. "The Rit Zien may not be able to distinguish between true depression and someone who's just … having a bad day. The ebb and flow of human emotions is bewildering even to me, and I've been on Earth for years. To an angel still wounded and traumatized from the fall it must be completely overwhelming."  
  
"You're saying …" The full magnitude of the danger dawned in Dean's eyes. "You're saying everyone is fair game? Everyone in the world? Become Pollyanna or go splat." 

Castiel frowned. "I don't understand that reference. Who is Pollyanna?" 

The ghost of a smile twitched Dean's lips. "Never mind. It's not even an accurate metaphor. Even Pollyanna was human. She must have had a bad day once in a while. We gotta figure out what poor bastard this Rit Zien is possessing before he puts the whole damn town out of its normal human misery."

"Dean," Castiel said as they stood up. "It's possible that we don't have to kill him. We could explain to him that pain is a natural part of life, that most humans want to live even when it seems like they don't. Maybe if we could make him understand, he would stop." _And I won't have yet another angel's death on my conscience._

Dean gave him a look that would have been pitying if there wasn't so much love and understanding in it. "We can try," he said, "but Cas —" 

"I know," Castiel said. "We have to stop him. One way or another." And in Castiel's vast experience, angels did not listen to reason when they were on a mission. He certainly hadn't.

~o0o~

The ER staff made no attempt to remove Dean from Castiel's side. They had plenty of experience with protective alphas. Castiel noticed several of the omega nurses giving his big, handsome alpha admiring (and in one case outright covetous) looks, but with Dean nuzzling his neck, murmuring soothing words in his ear, and generally treating him like the only person in the universe, he had less than no reason to feel jealous. 

Dean held Castiel's uninjured hand tightly while the beta doctor set his broken wrist, and Castiel managed to only whimper a little. Fortunately it was a clean break. A couple months in a cast and it would be good as new, or so the doctor assured him. Castiel knew he should be grateful that it wasn't worse. Hell, after going up against an insane Rit Zien, he was lucky to not be dead. But he couldn't help thinking glumly that since becoming human he had spent more time sick or injured than he had healthy. 

It was almost dawn by the time they left the hospital, and they were both too exhausted to make the long drive home just yet. They went back to their motel room and fell asleep curled around each other in such a way that it was impossible to tell who was comforting whom.  
  
Castiel woke an indeterminable amount of time later, disoriented and alone. "Dean?" he called. There was no answer. Fighting down panic, Castiel fumbled for his phone, momentarily forgetting about his broken wrist. He remembered abruptly and painfully as his cast collided with the corner of the bedside table. 

At that moment the door opened and Dean came in. The alpha immediately caught the scent of Castiel's pain and fear, and in an instant he was sitting on the bed, gathering the omega into his arms, and being much more careful of the cast than Castiel himself had been. "I'm here, omega," he murmured. "I'm right here, baby. I'm so sorry. I just went out to get us some food. I didn't think you'd wake up while I was gone. You were pretty deeply asleep. Must have been the drugs they gave you at the hospital." 

"I'm all right, alpha," Castiel said, relaxing into Dean's chest, a little ashamed of his panic now. "I just couldn't remember where I was for a moment. And you're right, I think the drugs are wearing off." His wrist was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and he could feel a headache starting behind his eyes. There were some new bruises on top of the almost healed ones too. Basically everything hurt. Again. 

"That's why I got this," Dean said, pulling a bottle of Tylenol from one of the plastic bags he had set down when he rushed to Castiel's side. He also pulled out a bottle of water and made Castiel drink the whole thing even after the pills were washed down. Only then would he give Castiel the bacon cheeseburger and fries that were in the other bag. 

With the medicine kicking in and his stomach full of food, Castiel was ready to go back to sleep for a while, but Dean had other ideas. And not the fun kind either. "Cas, we need to talk," he said. 

Castiel's heart stuttered and his mind began racing, trying to figure out what he had done to make Dean rethink their relationship. They'd been busy with the case, so it had been a few days since they'd had sex, and his new set of injuries would place limits on their physical intimacy yet again. Was Dean annoyed with him for being so fragile? Or maybe the alpha was just bored with this monogamy thing and wanted some variety. 

"Hey, hey, hey. Not like _that_." Dean took Castiel's face between his hands and looked him in the eye. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, enunciating each word clearly. "That's kind of what I want to talk to you about. I want to make sure that … that you're not going anywhere either." His voice faltered and a sharp tang of fear cut through his calm, reassuring scent. 

Castiel frowned in confusion. "Of course not. I love you, Dean. I don't want anyone else." 

"No, that's not what I …" Dean shook his head in frustration. "I'm no good at this stuff. Sam would be so much better," he muttered, seemingly talking to himself. Then he took a deep breath and focused on Castiel again. "Cas, at the clinic you told me … you said you thought that you deserved to die. Do you … do you still think that?" 

Castiel finally realized what Dean was asking, and he almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because he was relieved that he could so easily put his alpha's fears to rest. He lifted his uninjured hand to Dean's cheek. "I'm not planning to kill myself, Dean. I meant what I said to the Rit Zien. I want to live. Whether I deserve it or not, I won't give this … give _you_ up. I will never leave you by choice. Not that way or any other. I promise." 

Dean sagged with relief, his head coming to rest on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel stroked his alpha's hair and kissed his neck. "You do deserve this, Cas," Dean said in a muffled voice. "You deserve more than this. You …" He lifted his head but only to rest it against Castiel's, their lips almost but not quite touching. "You deserve better," he whispered. "Better than me."  
  
Castiel sighed and reflected, not for the first time, that he would very much like to hunt down everyone who had ever made Dean feel worthless and give them a piece of his mind. "How about we just agree not to worry about what we deserve and focus on enjoying what we have. Okay, alpha?" 

When their lips met, they were both smiling which made the kiss a little awkward, but they figured it out. 


	10. Rut

Castiel turned in circles, scanning the familiar little room and trying frantically to remember if he was missing something important. They wouldn't have much need for clothes, but he had grabbed some sweatpants and t-shirts just in case they got cold, and he had their toothbrushes and Dean's preferred shampoo and of course several boxes of condoms. He really wished they could do this here in their own bed, but the lack of a scent proof door or a private bathroom made that impossible, not with another alpha and two other omegas around. Luckily the bunker had a heat and rut suite, and Dean and Sam had taken the time to clean it up and update some of the amenities when they moved in. 

"Cas?"  
  
Castiel jumped. Absorbed in his thoughts, he hadn't heard or smelled Charlie approaching. 

She held out two full grocery bags. "There's bread, peanut butter, lunch meat, some fruit and cookies. It should be enough for a few days. If you run out, just text me." 

Food. He had completely forgotten about food. "Thank you," he said, taking the bags from her. Food, clothes, toiletries. That seemed to be all the essentials, and he had his phone and a charger so if he needed anything else he could just let Charlie or Kevin know and they would leave it outside the door. (Not Sam. For the next few days Sam was an alpha like any other as far as Dean's instincts were concerned. He couldn't touch anything that entered that room.) 

Now that all the necessary preparations were done, Castiel's inner omega was howling at him to go to his alpha right away, give himself over to Dean's needs just as Dean had once done for him. But instead he stood rooted to the spot, unable to make his feet move. 

"Cas?" Charlie said gently. "You've never done this before, have you?"  
  
He shook his head mutely. 

"Okay, well first of all, it's totally normal to be scared. It doesn't make you a bad omega, okay?" 

He half smiled and nodded. He didn't need to ask how she'd known exactly what he was thinking. She was an omega too. 

"But he's still Dean," she went on, laying a soft, reassuring hand on his arm, her scent calm and reminiscent of peaches and cinnamon. "He would never hurt you. You know that." 

He shook his head and said the same words he had said to Dean a few months ago. "That's not what I'm afraid of." He put down the bags and sat on the edge of the bed, the memory foam yielding to him with the easy familiarity of a long time lover. In his time as a human this was the only bed he had slept peacefully in. "He was perfect, Charlie," he said quietly. "During my heat he was … He was everything I needed and wanted, and I want to do the same for him, but I don't know if I can. I'm nowhere near as experienced as him." 

Charlie sat down beside him and took his hand, giving it a little squeeze. "You don't need to know a lot about sex to do this. Just trust your instincts. This is what they're for. And believe me, Cas, he would rather have you than some super experienced professional companion. He loves you, and you love him. That counts for a lot at a time like this." 

Castiel smiled as she unknowingly echoed his own words back to him. "I know." He took a deep breath and stood up. "Okay. I can do this." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself because he was, but it was also working. 

"Go get him, tiger," Charlie said with a smirk. "See you in a few days." 

~o0o~

Dean was sitting on the bed when Castiel came in, a pillow in his lap hiding his erection but not his arousal. That was still evident in his pink cheeks, dilated pupils, and not least his scent which was so thick with musk that Castiel could feel himself getting harder and wetter with every breath. 

He put the bags down in the corner and cautiously approached his alpha, concerned by Dean's stillness. He had expected to be jumped as soon as the door was closed if not before, but despite his obvious need, Dean just sat there, breathing through his mouth to filter out the scent of willing omega, refusing to even look at Castiel.  
  
"Dean?" Castiel knelt down in front of him but didn't touch him. "Do you … Do you not want me here?" His inner omega keened in distress. He needed to be here. He needed to help his alpha. But he would not force himself on Dean. Dean would never do that to him under any circumstances. 

Dean's head snapped up, and his eyes were so dark that Castiel could see his own bewildered face reflected in them. "Of course I want you here, Cas," Dean said, his rough, strained voice sending pleasant shivers down Castiel's spine. "But I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to be here. Just cause we're together, that doesn't mean you have to let me use you for this. I can manage on my own. I've done it before." 

Castiel sighed with equal parts relief and exasperation and finally reached out to touch Dean's cheek. "I know that, alpha. I'm here because I want to be. Because I love you and I want to help you like you helped me. And frankly, because you smell so irresistible right now that I might lose my mind if you don't fuck me soon." 

That would have been enough to get Dean going even on an ordinary day. Now it made him outright growl and yank Castiel into a hard, possessive, messy kiss, all teeth and tongues and unrestrained need.  
  
The pillow ended up on the floor as did their clothes, and soon Castiel was on all fours in the middle of the bed, rocking back onto his alpha's cock. This wasn't usually his preferred position. He liked to be able to see Dean's face, but when an alpha was in rut his knot could last up to an hour. This position would allow them to wait it out in comfort and even fall asleep while still tied together. It was fortunate that the cast had come off Castiel's wrist last week or this would have been much more complicated.  
  
Castiel had been prepared to take pleasure in his alpha's pleasure and not worry about how much attention Dean was paying to his prostate or his cock. He should have guessed that even in the throes of rut Dean would be a considerate, attentive lover. With a shameless exploitation of alpha strength he dragged Castiel up onto his knees, the omega's back pressed flush against a hard, fever hot chest. This changed the angle of the alpha's thrusts so that he was hitting the sweet spot almost every time, making Castiel gasp and moan wordlessly. At the same time a sweat damp, burning hot hand wrapped around the omega's aching cock, jacking him roughly while a calloused thumb toyed with his nipples.  
  
It was very different from the tender, skillful lovemaking Castiel had grown accustomed to, but there was definitely something to be said for the way Dean's hands just did not stop moving, giving him no time to grow desensitized before they were touching him somewhere new, overwhelming him with pleasure all over again.  
  
Suddenly he felt teeth on his neck, right over his scent gland. It wasn't quite hard enough to break skin, but it was more than a playful nip. Castiel went still, or at least as still as was possible with a rut crazed alpha fucking him wild. Would Dean stop if Castiel asked him to, or was he too far gone, in the grip of ancient instincts that predated civilized concepts like consent? 

No. He was still Dean. He would stop. All Castiel had to do was say the word. But did he _want_ Dean to stop? That was the real question. And the longer Dean's mouth hovered there, his breath hot and wet on Castiel's skin and a continuous growl rumbling through him, the more certain Castiel was that he didn't. He wanted to feel those teeth sinking into his flesh, binding him to Dean more permanently than a knot or even a promise. 

Then Dean pulled away and threw his head back, howling as he came. The by now familiar feeling of a knot swelling inside him, stretching him almost impossibly wider, tipped Castiel over the edge, and he went first rigid then limp in Dean's arms, splashing his stomach and the sheets with come. The ecstasy of orgasm momentarily erased the disappointment that Dean hadn't mated him right then and there. It was probably for the best. They should both be clear headed when they made a decision like that. 


	11. The Ties That Bind

Dean woke up about as hard as he could get but still drowsy and comfortable enough that he didn't feel the need to do anything about it yet. For the moment he was content to bury his face in Cas's hair and just enjoy the scent of happy omega and the feeling of miles of warm, naked skin pressed against his. Cas slept on, occasionally making adorable snuffling noises into the pillow. 

It had been a long time since Dean had gone through a rut with an omega to help. He'd tried hiring professionals once or twice, but quite apart from the fact that it cost money he didn't have, it always left him feeling a little too exposed. Having sex with a stranger was one thing, but a rut was a vulnerable time both physically and emotionally. It required a certain level of trust between the two participants, and trust wasn't something that came easily to Dean. So generally he made do with porn and toys. There were worse ways to spend a week. This though … This was heaven. 

Cas shifted in his sleep, and Dean groaned as the brush of skin on skin sharpened his need, making it impossible to ignore any longer. He lifted his head, preparing to gently nuzzle and kiss Cas awake and let him know it was time for round two. Then he saw the teeth marks. They were just under Cas's right ear, forming an irregular purplish red circle. Dean didn't remember making them, but they were definitely from his teeth. Sharp alpha teeth that had come perilously close to breaking the skin, doing something irreversible and unforgivable. 

Ice cold horror cleared his head for a moment, and he took advantage of it to roll his protesting body away from Cas's tempting warmth and bolt for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Unfortunately the door wasn't scent proof, so he knew the exact moment when Cas woke up, roused by the sour note of alpha distress in the air. 

His every instinct screamed at him to get back out there and comfort his omega, gather him close and assure him that he hadn't done anything wrong, and then fuck him silly please because the terror had done nothing to kill Dean's arousal, and as his body was reminding him more insistently with every passing second, _he was in rut!_ Abstinence was not an option, and jerking off was not gonna do the trick, not with a willing omega just on the other side of that door. 

But Winchesters were nothing if not stubborn. He gripped the edge of the sink until his hands hurt and breathed through his mouth to block out most of Cas's scent. It was his job to protect his omega even if what Cas needed to be protected from was Dean himself. 

Sleepy footsteps shuffled up to the door and the handle rattled. "Dean?" Cas called when he discovered that it was locked. And dear God, the sound of that deep, sleep and lust roughened voice saying his name made Dean shudder from head to toe with desire. "What's wrong?" 

He didn't bother trying the _nothing, I'm fine_ route since Cas could clearly smell that that wasn't true. Instead he said, "It's not your fault, Cas. You didn't do anything wrong, but you need to go. I need you to go." 

He heard Cas inhale sharply, and he could picture in excruciating detail the shock and hurt in those blue eyes. "Why?" 

The question was so lost, so bewildered, and Dean's inner alpha howled and whimpered and begged him to open the door, take Cas in his arms, kiss away the pain that _he_ was causing. He gripped the sink harder, using the cold and the ache in his fingers to ground him, distract him from his burning need.  
  
"Because I almost _bit_ you, Cas. I almost —" He swallowed hard, feeling like he might cry or be sick or both. "I almost mated you without your permission. That's worse than rape. And I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself next time." 

"Oh, Dean." Cas's voice was soft but clear. He was probably leaning against the door, trying to get as close to his alpha as the barrier would allow. "What if I don't want you to?" 

"That's exactly my point, Cas. You need to get out of here before I lose control again. I don't know how much longer I can —"

"No, Dean," Cas cut him off. "I mean what if … What if I don't want you to stop next time?" 

Dean froze. He couldn't possibly mean …

"What if I give you my permission right now? Will you open the door?" 

Dean's inner alpha was suddenly going fucking nuts. Even more so than before. _He wants it. He wants my bite. Mate him, claim him, my omega, mineminemine forever and ever._ Dean told it to shut up. 

"Cas, do you … Do you even know what you're offering? It's not like getting married. Once I do that, you can't change your mind. You could never …" He wanted to growl at the mere thought, but he forced the words out. "You could never be with anyone else." Not unless Dean was dead, and even then it would take years for the bond to fade enough that Cas could let someone else touch him intimately without feeling physically ill. Infidelity among mated couples was unheard of, which was not to say that all matings were happy. 

"I've never wanted anyone else," Cas said as though explaining that the sky was blue and water was wet. 

Dean groaned in desperation and frustration. His own willpower was the only thing actually keeping that door closed, and it was weakening quickly the longer Cas stood there smelling so enticing and being so endearingly/infuriatingly unreasonable. "What about Meg, huh?" he demanded. "What about the pizza man?" 

There was a beat of silence, and Cas sounded a little embarrassed when he replied. "That was idle curiosity, Dean, not true desire. I was trying to better understand human emotions, and Meg seemed the least likely to object to my using her for such a purpose. It was … not my proudest moment. Nor was it a particularly successful experiment. I found that I could go through the motions, but I felt nothing. Not lust, and certainly not love. The only person I have ever felt that with is you." 

"Okay, fine," Dean conceded, "but you don't know that you never will want anyone else."  
  
"Yes, I do." The last word was punctuated by the thump of a hand against the door. Cas was getting frustrated too. "Dean, when I say "ever", I mean in the history of the universe. I may be new to being human, but I am not new to being Castiel. I know my own mind, and I can say with certainty that I would never regret being mated to you. Of course, if …" His voice suddenly faltered. "If you think that you might regret it once your rut is over … I understand if you'd rather not tie yourself to me permanently. I'm not —"

That was it for Dean. He crossed the room in two steps, unlocked the door, and flung it open. Fortunately it opened inward so it didn't hit Cas, but the omega stumbled a little as the surface he'd been leaning on abruptly vanished. Dean caught him around the waist and kissed him, using all his self control to make it tender and loving, not rough and rut crazed. Cas made a noise that might have been a halfhearted attempt to finish his sentence, but then he gave up and just kissed Dean back. 

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Dean said when they came up for air. "I'm not going anywhere. I can't say you're the only one I've ever wanted, but you're the only one I've ever wanted to mate, and I know that's not the rut talking cause I've wanted it pretty much since the first time we had sex." 

Hope and lust and shy delight mingled in Cas's scent. "Really, alpha?" he said, winding his arms around Dean's neck.  
  
"Yeah." Dean pressed their foreheads together, tasting Cas's breath warm and sweet on his own lips when he said, "Are you sure? Like really, _really_ sure?" 

Cas nodded enthusiastically. 

"Okay. Lie down on the bed. On your stomach."  
  
Cas obeyed, and Dean's inner alpha purred smugly.  
  
Dean took a condom from the open box on the bedside table and rolled it on just in case he wasn't in a frame of mind to remember later. Then he joined Cas on the bed, but he didn't settle on top of him just yet. Once he was inside his omega, the rut instincts would take over, and he wouldn't have the control to make sure he didn't do more damage than necessary. 

"I, um … I'm gonna have to pinch your neck, Cas. Sorry, but if you move at the wrong moment, I could damage a nerve or an artery. And it'll hurt less if you're paralyzed. You'll still feel it, but it'll be more like a love bite than an actual bite. So I've been told anyway." 

"It's all right." Cas half turned his head and smiled reassuringly at Dean. "I trust you. I submit to you, alpha." 

"Fuck, that's hot." Only when Cas's smile turned into a smirk did Dean realize he had said that out loud. 

"Don't get used to it," the omega warned before turning face down again, exposing his vulnerable neck to the alpha. 

Dean braced one hand beside Cas's head, and with the other he squeezed the pressure point at the nape of his neck that would flood the omega's system with the equivalent of mild anesthesia. Cas immediately went limp, but Dean gave it a few more seconds to really kick in and dull the pain receptors. As he waited he realized something. 

He wasn't scared. Oh, he was scared of doing it wrong, of hurting Cas. But the being mated part, only sleeping with one person for the rest of his life? Didn't scare him at all. Not as long as that one person was Cas. 

He lined up with the teeth marks he had left earlier (it would work anywhere, but there was no point causing two wounds if he didn't have to) and bit down hard. The first thing he noticed was the taste of blood, thick and coppery and … Well, gross was the only word for it, but he forced himself to swallow, absorbing Cas's mating hormones into his system and establishing half the bond. The other half would come from Dean's saliva working its way into Cas's bloodstream via the bite. 

Once he got past the taste, there was actually something deeply satisfying about it. Not the blood, but the connection. His teeth buried in Cas's flesh, the omega pliant and trusting beneath him. His inner alpha was so happy it didn't even care that he wasn't fucking Cas yet. 

He gave it about two minutes before he let go, being careful not to tear the wound. Blood welled up in his wake but not a lot of it. He grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed it away. The bite would need to be disinfected and bandaged, but that could wait a little while. Alpha mating hormones were scientifically proven to decrease the risk of infection.  
  
Without the pressure of Dean's hand on his neck, Cas began to stir sluggishly. "How you doing?" Dean asked, tossing the bloody tissue in the general direction of the trash. 

"Mmm. I'm good," Cas mumbled. "Felt really good." 

"You're a little bit high, aren't you?" Dean chuckled. He'd heard that the bite had a euphoric effect on the omega, a natural defense mechanism in case the alpha wasn't as gentle as Dean had been. 

"Mmm. You're on top of me, so technically _you're_ high and I am low." 

Dean honestly had no idea if that was supposed to be a joke or if stoned Cas was just as literal minded as regular Cas, but it gave him an idea. "Maybe one day we'll try it the other way around." 

Cas opened one eye. "You mean me fuck you?"  
  
"Yeah. Would you like that, sweetheart?" 

"But …" The visible half of Cas's face creased in a puzzled frown. "You're not … built for that. You don't …" 

"Make my own lube? No, but there's artificial stuff you can buy. How do you think gay beta guys do it?" (Or alphas who liked other alphas. Dean had only once let an alpha knot him. He hadn't been able to walk or sit normally for almost a week.) "Or we could just use yours," he said, sliding a finger into Cas, smooth and easy as a kiss. "Looks like you've got plenty to spare." 

Cas hummed again and stretched languidly. "Perhaps another time. Right now I'd really like you to knot me, and then I'd like to fall asleep with you still inside me." 

Dean gave a deep groan of agreement. "Oh, I am so on board with that." 

The unspeakable relief of finally sinking into his omega (and Cas was really _his_ omega now; they weren't just dating or sleeping together or whatever) almost made Dean come right then. He rolled them onto their sides so he could take Cas's cock in hand, hoping he could get his mate to climax before he blacked out. To his surprise Cas was already soft and sticky with fresh come. 

"When did you …" 

Cas grinned lazily at Dean over his shoulder. "The second you bit me. Like I said, it felt _really_ good."

"Fuck," Dean managed to say before he lost his tenuous hold on coherent thought and drowned in the ecstasy of making love to his mate for the first time. 


	12. Team Free Will

Castiel groggily half surfaced from sleep and automatically reached for Dean. His hand found empty air. Not only was there no warm alpha to snuggle up to. The other half of the bed seemed to be missing as well. He rolled over and encountered a wall made of squashy cushions. He was lying on a sofa, and not one of the sofas in the bunker judging by the neutral, fresh-from-the-packaging smell of the fabric only faintly overlaid with his own scent. At that point his brain stopped taking things like safety for granted and woke him up the rest of the way. 

He sat up and examined his surroundings. It was either a large office or a small library. A carved mahogany desk squatted at one end of the room like a sleeping bear. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves which held thick, leather bound volumes. A log fire crackled in a marble fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm and casting everything in a soft light. At first glance it was cozy, welcoming, but there was something off about it, and it only took Castiel a moment to figure out what. The room had no scent. Oh, the fire smelled like burning wood, and the books smelled like paper and ink and leather, but there was no human scent, no indication that anyone actually used this room. It was like a movie set or a museum exhibit. All the details were right, but it felt fake. 

He wracked his brain for his most recent memory, trying to figure out how he'd gotten here, wherever here was. He'd been on a hunt with Dean somewhere in Utah. A vampire that was for some reason only preying on omegas. Castiel had suggested using himself as bait to lure it out. Dean had rejected the idea vehemently. The ensuing argument had gotten rather heated, and then …

He definitely remembered the make up sex, but after that it was a blank. Had he fallen asleep? Was it possible that someone had abducted him from his bed without waking his mate? Not likely. Dean had the combined reflexes of a hunter and a newly mated alpha whose protective instincts were still in overdrive. (Hence the argument.) Unless … Unless whoever had taken him had killed Dean first. His hand flew to the scar on his neck as though it could tell him whether or not his mate was alive and searching for him, but the bite wasn't magic. All it did was mark him as off limits to other alphas and ensure that his body would only desire Dean just as Dean would only want him as long as they both lived. 

The room's only door suddenly opened and a man entered. Castiel recognized him instantly. That face had haunted his nightmares ever since he became human, although the nightmares had been less frequent since he started sharing a bed with Dean. "Metatron," he growled. "What do you want? Where is Dean?" 

The angel smiled in a way that did not reassure Castiel at all and shut the door. "I gotta say, Cas, I'm disappointed in you. I gave you a shot at a quiet, normal life, and what do you do? Get mated to Dean fucking Winchester." 

"My name is Castiel," Castiel said coldly. "Only my family is allowed to call me Cas, and you are definitely not that. Now tell me what you've done with my mate. If you've hurt him in any way …" 

Metatron rolled his eyes as though Castiel was being tiresomely unreasonable. "He's _fine_. If you must know he's still fast asleep in the motel room of the week, and when our conversation is over I will return you there if you wish. But I think when you've heard my offer, you'll reconsider that." He sat down beside Castiel on the sofa. 

Castiel edged away, uncomfortably reminded of his "conversations" with Naomi. Could Metatron subconsciously program him to hurt Dean or spy on him? Maybe he already had. Maybe there had been many meetings like this, and Castiel had forgotten. What if … No. He was human now. He had free will. Humans could be persuaded or tricked, but they could not be controlled the way angels could. Metatron could say whatever he wanted. Castiel would always choose Dean. 

"What offer?" he asked stiffly, figuring that the fastest way out of here was to let Metatron speak his piece. 

Metatron smiled beatifically and said with the air of a parent offering a child candy, "How would you like to be an angel again?" 

Castiel blinked. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but that definitely wasn't it. Several questions competed to be the first out of his mouth. "Why?" was the winner. 

"You mean why would I give that kind of power to someone who hates me as much as you do?" 

"Yes." 

"Because I'm bored." Metatron slouched back against the cushions and pouted, his demeanor going from benevolent parent to sulky toddler in a moment. "I thought having Heaven all to myself would be fun. The only kid on the playground, no line for the slide. But I forgot the most important part of any story. Conflict. And yeah, I know it's a bit of a retcon, and it undoes your whole arc, but just work with me for a second." He leaned forward again, a manic, not entirely sane gleam in his eyes. "You recover your grace, rally the angels against me. Big epic showdown. Obviously we'll edit out all this meta stuff. I can't set up my own antagonist. That's stupid. And we'll have to find a way to make the angels like you again, but we'll hash out the details later. Right now we're just brainstorming. What do you think?" 

A lot of this was nonsense to Castiel, but one thing registered. "You _want_ me to attack you?" 

"Every hero needs a villain." 

Castiel had a strong suspicion that he was not the hero of Metatron's "story". "So I lead the angels against you, and … Then what? You let us all back into Heaven?" 

"Of course not!" Metatron laughed. "That would be terribly anticlimactic. No, there would have to be a real battle royale. Many angels will die. But if you play your part, I promise you will be spared. And just when your army is on the brink of annihilation, I, in my infinite mercy, will give them a choice. Any angel who swears loyalty to me will be allowed to return to Heaven. After all, a God needs minions."  
  
For a few seconds Castiel found himself actually considering it. He didn't really have to play by Metatron's rules. He could pretend just long enough to get his grace back and get the angels on his side, and then …

Then he could what? Fix things? Fight another civil war, angels killing angels? And even if he won, what then? He could never go back to Dean. He would have to stay in Heaven to make sure angels like Naomi didn't gain too much power. 

_I will never leave you by choice. Not that way or any other. I promise._

"No."  
  
Metatron looked shocked. "No?!"

"No." Castiel stood up. "I politely decline your offer. I would like to go home now." It didn't matter that he'd gone to sleep in a motel room. Home was his mate. Home was Dean's arms and Dean's scent wrapping around him, making him feel safe and loved. 

Metatron's eyes narrowed. "Think carefully, Castiel. This is a one time deal. You'll never find what's left of your grace without my help. I've hidden it too well." 

"I don't want it. I don't want to be an angel." Castiel realized as he said the words that they had been true for a long time. Maybe all his life. "Mortality doesn't scare me, Metatron. I would rather grow old with him than live forever without him." 

For a moment he thought Metatron would refuse to let him go, but then the angel shook his head and said sulkily, "Fine. Go be disgustingly happy. See if I care." 

~o0o~

Castiel groggily half surfaced from sleep and automatically reached for Dean. 

The alpha made a pleased little sound as Castiel snuggled closer to him. "You okay?" he murmured, wrapping an arm securely around his omega. 

"Mmm, yeah," Castiel sighed, already drifting off again, lulled by the steady rhythm of his mate's heartbeat. "Weird dream. Tell you about it in the morning."  
  
His last thought before he fell back to sleep was that even if it had been real, he would have made the exact same choice, and he would never regret it.

 **the end**

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love. Just sayin'. =)


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